A Wedding Date
by KricketWilliams
Summary: Morgan is left high and dry before the wedding for one of his friends, and his best friend decides to go with to help him out. I don't own a thing.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_AN: I'm back from camping! I wrote this story awhile back, around the middle of season five, so it__ fits better there than with the current (Lovely) season six...but still, it definitely works with our lovebirds. :)_

Derek was sitting at dinner with his girlfriend, Elizabeth. They'd been dating for about five months now; nothing too serious as far as he could tell. Originally, he was thinking that Elizabeth might be "the one." He was getting up there, pushing forty. It was time to consider moving on to that next step.

Moving in together. Derek didn't believe he'd ever marry. He really wasn't the type.

After the last month, he was more than certain she wasn't the one after all. She talked incessantly, didn't really give a damn what he thought, insisted on events they attended, carped about his work and his schedule, and even stated she didn't like his friends.

It was a no-brainer; pretty soon, he was going to dump her. He wondered why he stayed in this relationship as long as he did.

Scratch that, he knew _exactly _why he was in the relationship...and it had nothing to do with conversation.

That just wasn't a good enough reason anymore.

Still, Derek didn't have time to find a new girlfriend. He was in town so rarely and worked so much. Unless he wanted to date someone who worked for the FBI, he wasn't going to meet anyone. He tried that in the beginning. He slept with a huge amount of trainees; looking back, he was rather ashamed of it. Being a supervisory special agent, he really shouldn't have been getting the trainees drunk and having private parties with them.

Oh, well. Live and learn.

"Whose wedding are we going to?" Elizabeth asked excitedly. Her deep blue eyes lit up at the mention of a wedding.

"Marshall Bates," he said, eating a bite of his linguine. "A college friend of mine. Good guy, great ball player."

"You know, Derek," she said, leaning across the table and lowering her eyelashes at him. "A wedding might get you interested in thinking more about us and our future."

_Oh, shit_. Derek thought. _Not this_.

"It's just a wedding date. Nothing more than that."

She stiffened. "Are you saying you haven't even considered making a permanent move with me?"

He knew it at that moment, he was in it deep. He was a horrible liar; he tended to look very constipated when he lied. He didn't really want to lie to her anyway. It wasn't in his nature. "I haven't really considered it, no."

She gasped and looked completely indignant.

"Elizabeth…honey," he backpedaled, trying to soothe some ruffled feathers. "We've only been dating for five months. That doesn't seem like anywhere near enough time to be thinking about forever."

"Really, Derek?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes. "That's a big surprise. I thought that was plenty of time, because I certainly _had_ considered forever with you."

"I think you are jumping the gun..."

She continued to glare at him. "Am I supposed to just continue to sleep with you, without any sort of real commitment?"

"There's commitment," he answered grimly. He knew this wasn't going to go over well. "I'm not sleeping with anyone else right now."

"Well! I am sorry _that_ has been such a hardship for you. " She stood up and threw her napkin on the table. "Derek, you may be really good in bed, but you are a _lousy_ boyfriend!"

"Calm down, Elizabeth," he said gently in his best coaxing voice. "You're causing a scene."

"Oh, no, I'm not!" she proclaimed loudly, her mouth pinched from stress. "_This_ is causing a scene!"

With that, she picked up her glass of wine and threw it in his face. She turned on her stiletto heels and walked stiffly out of the restaurant, mindless of the many people staring.

Derek took his napkin, wiped his face, and continued eating his linguine.

* * *

"She did what?" Penelope said over the phone. He could tell she was trying hard not to snicker.

"Baby, I don't want to say it again," he said, groaning with displeasure. He knew she understood and was teasing the hell out of him for it.

"Alright, Hot Stuff," she said with a slightly stiffled giggle. "I shall remain your _cher ami_, and not tease you anymore."

He wasn't buying it, but he didn't mind. She made him feel a whole bunch better regardless. "I just don't get it."

"What, handsome?"

He sighed. "Why she acted that way. I didn't lead her on; I told her straight out that I wasn't the marrying kind. Yet she went there anyway, and-"

"Oooh, bad girl," she interrupted, that teasing tone back in her voice. "Wanting to be married to a gorgeous, intelligent, funny FBI agent." She clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. "Wonder why she would think that way?"

"Garcia, you know in this line of work, marriage doesn't work," he said, getting a little frustrated. "I mean, look at Rossi and his three marriages, Hotch-"

"Hotch doesn't see his marriage as a mistake," she said softly.

"Well, he's wrong," Derek said flatly. "We see too much danger; it's not good."

Nothing she said was going to change his mind on that. He didn't mention his mother who fell so in love with his father. She was a one man woman, and had been alone for the past twenty-seven years. Although his father didn't die in the line of duty, he could've, and he wouldn't have had a choice. Derek was very aware of his own mortality. He figured he didn't have a choice, either. However, he had a choice about marrying, and he wasn't going to do that to another woman.

"Maybe some woman would think you're worth the risk," she murmured encouragingly.

"Yeah," he said, intent on changing the subject. Derek shook his head. Although Garcia was his best friend, and a hell of a beer drinking buddy, she was still a woman, and a romantic. It was useless talking to her about this.

He changed the subject. "Got any friends willing to go with a _chocolate Adonis _to a wedding next weekend?"

"She did stick you on short notice, didn't she, baby?"

"Laugh it up, silly girl," he growled. "I'm desperate here."

"Just go stag," she said.

"I said two on the damn response." He couldn't go alone. Not to something where all his college buddies would be. He didn't want them thinking he couldn't get a date, it would be mortifying. He blanched at that thought.

"I don't know why it's such a big deal, Morgan," she replied. "But if you need a date, I'll go."

This time he laughed. "I don't think Ol' Lynch will let you within forty feet of me on a date, baby."

"Well, he's a non-issue as of two days ago."

She didn't sound upset. Still, he added, "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. It was mutual. We had irreconcilable differences."

He wanted to ask, but he didn't. Instead, he just said. "Thanks for the offer. I'll let you know."

"Derek, now or never," she said, sounding rather irritated. "I am going to make plans for Saturday if you don't say yes."

"Yes, fine," he said, sounding irritated himself. "We'll go. As friends, of course."

She laughed. "Please, sweet cheeks. Like I would consider anything more with you. Methinks I know you too well for that!"

"Pick you up Friday at eight," he said.

"Wait. It's a Saturday wedding, why—"

"It's in Virginia Beach, angel, we need to be well rested," he said, starting to smirk to himself. "And you know what they say about that town…Virginia Beach is for lovers."

"Oh, yeah. You keep dreaming about getting a piece of this tech goddess, Morgan," she responded flatly. "Good night."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! Now, on with the show..._

The rest of the week had flown by for Derek, and before he knew it, he found himself on the way to Penelope's place. To tell the truth, he was pretty happy to be taking Penelope along. He knew they'd have a lot of fun; she was that kind of girl. There was really nothing to stress about. He'd already rented the room and had his bag packed. All the preplanning was done.

He drove up to the curb in front of her complex. In true Garcia spirit, she was already waiting, sitting on a stone bench in front of her gated courtyard. She stood up and started to carry her little bag to his truck.

"Hey," he said, running out and grabbing the bag from her. "I got it."

"It weighs two pounds, Morgan. I can handle it," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Momma, I am sure there is nothing you can't handle," he said with a teasing smirk, "but let me be a gentleman anyway and take the bag."

He watched as she smiled, shook her head, and followed him. He opened the door for her, and she slid in, then buckled up.

"It's a four hour drive, isn't it?" she asked, looking somewhat concerned. "We'll get there at midnight."

"Three hours is more like it," he said as he fastened his own belt. "Especially the way I drive."

"Take it easy, lead foot," she said, looking in the review mirror to wipe off some smudged lipstick. She turned and grinned at him. "We need to make it there in one piece."

"Yes, boss," he answered, before pulling the truck away from the curb.

They took off down the road. Penelope was rather surprised. She glanced over at the speedometer and noticed he was only going about ten over the speed limit. She was used to him being quite the speed demon behind the wheel. He'd blamed it on years of chasing bad guys.

They talked quite a bit, settling into the drive, before Penelope yawned.

He spared a glance over at her. "You tired?"

She nodded. "Long day."

He put his arm out. "If you want, you can cuddle up here."

Penelope looked over rather longingly. He looked kind of comfortable, and she was tired. She decided against it. She'd sort of cuddled with him in the past, sat with him watching movies and stuff, even shared her twizzlers with him. However, sleeping on him…. That was a little too intimate.

It wasn't that she didn't ever think of Morgan in an intimate capacity. No red blooded woman could possibly be around him and not wonder what he'd be like in bed. She just knew him, knew his baggage, knew his type of woman, and knew she wasn't it.

She knew he wasn't the marrying kind. She wanted marriage and kids someday. She wanted a family, a picket fence, and a dog.

Derek...He had the dog, but that was it. Everything else about him was completely wrong, and she was completely wrong for him.

It had nothing to do with looks. Yeah, he'd dated slender, model-like women, but she knew that didn't really matter with how Derek saw her. He wanted her. Heck, she'd glanced downward after flirting with him enough times to _know_ he liked her dirty talk. She wanted him, too-who wouldn't? It just wasn't the issue with their compatibility.

The major difference in who they dated was style. He liked timid, fragile women who draped themselves on him. They lived for every little word he said. Big, strong, sexy Derek, the dominating force in their life. She knew herself, knew what she was. Quite simply, she wasn't the draping type.

She also didn't want a dominating force in her life. She wanted a gentle man who didn't want to save the world. A beta male, one who was a supporter, not a leader. One that wasn't so overbearingly masculine and sexual. One that didn't give a damn if she lifted a two pound bag.

So, she ignored the lightning hot chemistry she'd felt when he'd touched her arm helping her in the truck, and all the other little nuances in the past years that told her she needed to stop teasing and jump in bed with him. She ignored the nagging feeling of just surrendering to the force that was him, and lowered the back of her seat.

"I'm fine," she said, leaning on her elbow. Then she added with a wicked grin, "Next time, offer an appendage other than your arm, and I may take you up on it."

He gave a laugh, but she saw the heat that flared in his eyes. That pleased her; just because she wasn't going to sleep with him didn't mean she had to let go of all the fun she had with him. She closed her eyes and fell asleep with a smile on her face.

* * *

"Wake up, princess. We're here."

She opened her eyes to Derek leaning over her. He was smiling still, but he looked very tired. He had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.

"What time is it?" she asked, raising her seat back up and rubbing her eyes.

"A little after eleven," he replied. "We made great time."

"_You_ made great time," she said, unfastening her seat belt. "I just slept."

He grinned and hopped out of the truck. She quickly opened her door and jumped out. He grabbed the bags and started walking towards the door with her. He went to open the door, but she jumped in front of him.

"You got the bags; I'll open," she explained.

He scowled a little bit. "I could've done both, Pen. Like you said, they don't weigh much."

She ignored him, but smiled inwardly, and walked to the reception desk.

They got their room key and took the elevator up to their floor. The room was beautiful, ocean colors with a lighthouse border and portraits of picturesque scenery. She noticed there were two queen sized beds.

"Not planning on getting lucky with Elizabeth, huh?" she asked with a smirk. For some reason, that pleased her. "I would've thought you would've had a big ol' king size bed."

He was unloading his bag. "It was all they had. And I would've been lucky with her in both beds." He looked up for a moment, shooting her a telling look. "Multiple times."

"Oooh," she exclaimed, grabbing her pajamas out of her bag. "Don't tempt me with bedtime stories like that."

"You are naughty," he replied, but his tired eyes twinkled at her. "Which bed do you want?"

"You pick," she responded, strolling out of that section of the room towards the bathroom. "I'm hitting the shower."

He shook his head and continued to unpack. He took the bed nearest the window. It didn't matter where he lay down; he wasn't going to sleep anyway. It hit the minute he entered the room, that horrible feeling of insomnia he couldn't shake. He hated his brain sometimes. His body was damn tired, his eyes felt like they had a beach in them, and yet, he knew he wasn't going to get a wink of sleep.

He sat on the edge of his bed, holding his toothbrush and his boxers in his hand, waiting for Penelope to finish so he could jump in the shower.

She came out in a short pajama set. The shirt said, "Sassy Kitty" and had a rather naughty looking cat stenciled on the front. Her shorts matched the top with that same cat printed all over them. She didn't have a stitch of makeup on, her hair was soaking wet, and her glasses were hooked to the front of her shirt.

She looked sexy as hell, and he knew she wasn't even trying. He wanted to peel those damn cat pajamas off and find some relaxation in another way, since he wasn't going to sleep.

He teased her about her choice anyway. "Kitty pajamas?"

"I like kitty pajamas," she said defensively. "What do you wear?"

He merely smirked at her.

"Not with me in the room, gorgeous."

"Come on," he coaxed gently. "I'll be good. You can trust me."

"That's not the problem," she shot over her shoulder wickedly as she turned to her bed. "You can't trust me."

"I'm hitting the shower," he said. He was shaking his head; no use arguing with that crazy girl.

He watched as she climbed in the bed nearest the bathroom. She was on all fours on the bed, fluffing the very flat hotel pillows. She had the cutest little butt. It wiggled perfectly when she got aggressive with one of the pillows. He bet the front end of her was jiggling in just the right-

She turned and frowned, giving him a confused look. "Why are you just standing there?"

"I-" He stopped himself. There wasn't a damn thing he could say to defend his actions.

So instead, he headed for the shower.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews! I'm having so much fun with this...  
_

Penelope awoke to a slight rustling noise, with a muffled expletive following shortly thereafter. The room was pitch dark; it had to be really early still. She glanced over at the alarm clock on the stand between her bed and Derek's. The green glowing numbers stated that it was three am.

She looked over at the other bed. From what she could see, Derek was laying there flat on his back, sans pillows. She slid on her glasses and let her eyes adjust to the dark. His arms were folded under his head, and he had a look of grim determination on his face. His eyes were open, and he was focused on a spot on the ceiling, and he didn't look happy about it at all.

"Derek, you're awake?" she whispered.

He continued to stare at that spot of nothingness. "Go back to bed, honey."

"What woke you up?" she asked. He'd looked so exhausted when they first lay down, but now he was obviously wide awake. Something must've startled him.

"Nothing, Baby Girl. Sorry if I was loud; I didn't mean to wake _you_ up." He turned his head to look at her, then took a second to grin sheepishly at her. "Whoever shares my bed is usually knocked out cold; they don't usually see this."

"See what?"

He sighed heavily. "Me. Not sleeping."

She looked at him and frowned. He had said he was an insomniac before, but she didn't know exactly how bad his insomnia was. He looked beat, but completely resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to sleep. He'd looked tired _before_ they went to bed last night; he had to be nearly dead now. She'd never seen him this worn out.

She had to ask the question. "Derek, when's the last time you'd slept?"

He muttered something under his breath she thought she'd heard.

"Did you say Wednesday?" she asked, attempting to clarify. It was early Saturday morning; that was a lot of days not sleeping.

"No...Tuesday," he responded grimly.

Her heart absolutely ached for him. She didn't know what she could say or do to make this better, but she needed to do _something_. What kind of friend would she be if she let him continue on this way?

She tried the obvious thoughts. "Did you try counting sheep?"

He went back to looking at the ceiling. "I don't just count them anymore; I name them."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Okay, cupcake. How about a sleeping pill or music?"

"Done both. Sleeping pills never work, and music just makes me hum along."

She had another thought. She didn't want to ask it, but she knew it worked for her at least. "How about sex?"

He looked at her again with an arched eyebrow. "You volunteering?"

"No," she said, recoiling just a bit. This was delicate territory. They teased about sex all the time, but not in this relatively serious capacity. This felt purely medical, so she just came out and said it, "However, solo sex might work—"

"That's what the shower was for, sweetheart," he said, looking back at the ceiling. "And anyway, it doesn't work solo or with one or two or three partners. I get a second wind, and I'm up."

Immediately, she pictured Derek with three other women in bed and nearly choked at the thought. Good God, the man was promiscuous. It wasn't news, but still...yeesh!

Then she thought about what he said about the shower and had to fight a blush. Two thoughts hit her after that. One, she was glad she'd used the shower first! Secondly, he got off and he still couldn't sleep?

This was serious.

She had to ask more, try to figure this out. "Derek,-"

"Just go to bed, baby," he said wearily, closing his eyes. "And stop worrying. No one's ever died of insomnia. Eventually, I'll sleep."

This was nothing Derek wasn't used to. He didn't want her asking about warm milk (made him want to pee), a bath (too hot to enjoy), and aromatherapy (lavender made him sneeze). He just wanted to grit his teeth and-

He was surprised to feel the bed dip next to him. She was climbing in, snuggling up next to him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, scowling at her.

She spooned herself against his side, from shoulder to hip. "When my mom and dad died, I'd had a lot of insomnia. The only thing that seemed to help was when someone held me. I don't know if it will help or not, but it's worth a try."

"Baby girl, if sex doesn't-"

"It has nothing to do with sex. I was a virgin at eighteen when they died, and it was my aunt usually who held me." She added gently, very softly, "Derek, it's about shared human emotion. Just knowing there is someone out there that cares."

"Sweetness-"

"Just close your eyes and let me hold you," she said.

He scoffed. "P. Get in your own damn bed."

"Try."

Derek felt the warmth of her pressed against his side, her arm draped across his stomach, her smooth calf over his rough one. He felt her breasts, too, and a stirring of desire crept through him that he would've acted on…if he wasn't so damn tired.

However, along with that warmth and that unmistakable twinge of passion, there was something else. He couldn't exactly name what it was, but it felt remarkably peaceful. He heard her soft breaths next to him, could smell her sweet apple scent, and felt his eyes grow even heavier. He closed them, trying to alleviate the burning behind his lids.

He didn't think it would work, but he'd give it a shot.

* * *

Derek woke up, rubbing the smooth, soft expanse of skin on the ribcage of a woman. He felt a soft cheek resting against his chest, along with the rest of an equally soft body pressed against his. This was obviously a woman, and she felt fantastic.

Four seconds later, the memory crashed in; he knew exactly who it was, and he didn't care. He was grateful for it.

He also remembered what he'd thought. He'd been wrong. It obviously had worked.

He slowly opened his eyes and was blinded by brilliant sunlight. He immediately wondered how late it was, but didn't want to disturb her. He lowered his gaze and was rather surprised at what he saw.

Lying there, very still, was his baby girl staring up at him. He wasn't expecting her to be up.

She smiled warmly at him. "You're up," she said. "Feel better?"

"Much," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Thanks. What time is it?"

"About noon," she said.

He stiffened. "What?"

"Actually, pretty close to 12:30."

"Well…wow." He just stared at her for a few moments, before he relaxed and started talking again. "You sure like to sleep in, huh?"

"I've been up since about ten," she said gently. "I tried to get up, but you wouldn't let me." She patted his arm that was still wrapped rather tightly around her waist.

Derek blanched. He removed his hand from under her shirt and released her. Good Lord, he was holding her like a teddy bear! A very sexy, very smooth teddy bear, but a teddy bear no less.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, moving away.

"Don't be," she answered, sitting up and stretching. "You really needed the sleep, sweet cheeks. If you hadn't slept since Tuesday, then-"

"Yes, I know," he grumbled, sitting up. "But I didn't need to paw you like that."

"Nonsense," she retorted, standing up. She rested her hands on his shoulders. "You can't help what you do in your sleep. Besides, I didn't mind. You wield a gun; you need to be well rested. Consider it me doing my part for public safety."

In a cascade of very natural movements, she'd smiled at him, a sleepy morning smile, then leaned down to give a gentle kiss on what would have been his cheek...if he didn't turn to face her more at that moment. Instead, he received the softest brushing of her lips on his.

He stiffened immediately from the jolt that ran through his body, from that minuscule, nearly imperceptible contact. She must've felt it too; he heard her gasp and saw her eyes widen. A second later, she straightened and started to blush.

Derek cursed himself. He did it on purpose, and he regretted it. Somewhere, deep down, he wanted to kiss her, wanted to make this shared intimacy more than what it was.

Regardless of the cost to his very uncomfortable, beet red best friend.

"I better get dressed," she said, then wandered off to the bathroom, while Derek slumped back down on the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_AN:I feel like a broken record, but this is so true...thank you for the reviews, alerts and favorites you all do for me. It is a huge honor to know that you take the time to tell me you like this. I am forever grateful!_

Penelope came out of the bathroom, completely dressed and ready to go. Derek wasn't anywhere near dressed. He wasn't used to sleeping so well; he felt kind of groggy and discombobulated. He knew it would wear off, but it was rather embarrassing that he was moving in slow motion. In fact, he was still standing there in his black boxers, holding his pants.

"Hmmm," she said, a sexy little smile curving her lips. "That's an interesting outfit for this evening. I am going to have to fight the other girls off with a stick."

"Very funny."

"Hot Stuff?"

He could tell from her tone he shouldn't say it, but he did anyway. "What?"

"Your legs go in the holes," she said. As he looked up and glared at her, she added, "In case you were wondering."

He pulled his pants on and started fastening them, then grabbed his shirt and his little travel bag. "Going in the bathroom, be out soon."

"Oh, take your time," she smirked. "I know how you need to look pretty, so-"

He let out a groan as he shut the bathroom door.

* * *

Penelope exhaled a relieved whoosh of air. She sat back on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath, letting her thoughts go back to this morning.

_What the hell was I thinking? s_he thought. She had to fight a forehead slap. She'd kissed him. He wasn't her boyfriend, he wasn't _anything_ in that capacity. Yet once it happened, it felt like the exact right thing to do.

Afterward, he'd looked at her like she'd grown two heads. She felt like she did, too.

But it felt so good...

She threw her clothes in her suitcase in disgust. This was stupid thinking. She _knew_ she didn't want him. Just because he'd been sweet and needed her last night did not mean he was like that normally. He was a domineering control freak, who had the audacity to call her a hard head. He was the pot calling the kettle black. He was _really_ not her type either.

She needed to be needed, it was in her nature. A man that relied on her. She knew Derek really felt he didn't need anyone. She wasn't changing, and she sure as hell wasn't going to get him to change his mind.

He stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and ready to fly. "Alright. Let's get some food and go do this thing."

* * *

There were a few things Penelope noticed right away about the wedding of Marshall Bates. The first was the assembly area was beautiful, decorated very extensively and expensively, too. There was nothing missing. Second, she noticed the groomsmen in the wedding party were absolutely stunning. Probably not quite Derek good looking, but pretty damn close. That was saying a whole lot.

The bridesmaids were pretty too, but she didn't notice them as much. She sniggered to herself, she didn't wonder why.

Derek sat next to her and watched the wedding rather attentively. She was surprised by that. She decided to comment on it. "You seem to be really into this."

He looked at her. "I love weddings."

"Really?" That was more than surprising to her.

He flashed his perfect white teeth. "As long as it isn't my own wedding."

Now _that_ sounded more like Derek. Pen was interrupted by the start of the wedding march. Derek rose and reached a hand down to help her. She stood, and watched as the bride walked in. The bride, Angela, looked so in love, it made Penelope's chest ache. For the first time in forever, she felt incomplete. That love...She wondered if she would ever feel love like that.

She stood there and blinked for a moment. She hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted that until this moment. Maybe it was because she was finally done with Kevin. She'd never seriously thought about marriage when Kevin was around. It just wasn't a feasible thought; he'd lead her to thinking of anything but marriage. But now, surrounded by the wonder and magic of the wedding, she knew she was feeling…envy. She didn't like feeling that way. She drew a shaky breath.

Almost immediately, she felt Derek put his hands on her waist, and tug her closer to him. "You okay, Baby Girl?" His voice was a low rumble that caused goose bumps to rise on her arms.

"I'm fine," she said, rubbing her hands on her arms. Shaking off the feeling, she stepped away from Derek, sat back down, and watched the rest of the nuptials.

* * *

The ceremony was over before they knew it. Derek stood and wrapped an arm around Penelope. "Come on; I get to introduce you in the receiving line."

They waited in the line of well wishers. There were a lot of guests; Penelope was guessing about five hundred people. Most of the people were obviously family of the bride and groom, but there were a lot of other folks there, too. Everyone seemed to be right around Derek's age, as far as she could tell.

Once they reached Marshall and Angela, Penelope was struck again by the amount of love the groom had for his bride. It was an honor to be there, to see the wedding of two people so obviously in love. Penelope felt tears of emotion sting her eyes.

"Marsh," Derek said, shaking the groom's hand, then doing a one armed hug. "Congrats, man."

"Morgan!" Marshall exclaimed, hugging Derek back with both arms. The man was so happy, he was nearly exploding with joy. "Glad you could make it. I was sad when you said you couldn't be in the wedding."

"I'm sorry about that," Derek responded. "I get called away an awful lot and I would hate to stand you up, leaving you high and dry."

Marshall looked over at Penelope, then beamed at Derek. "Ah! Finally, you've decided to take yourself off the market. You're the oldest in the crew, it's about damn time!"

"Sorry yet again, Marsh," Derek answered with a smirk. "Just because you have the shackle now doesn't mean we all need to. This is Penelope. She's my best friend and colleague from the FBI."

"Oh," Marshall said, sounding disappointed for a moment. Shaking it off, he smiled almost apologetically,"Oh! Sorry! Pleased to meet you."

"Beautiful wedding," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Thanks," he said, wrapping his arm around the waist of his rather introverted wife. It was obvious Marshall was very outgoing, and Angela very shy. However, she glowed happily next to him.

This arrangement was similar to what Pen wanted. She was an alpha female, she needed the opposite of her. A beta male, gentle and shy. Looking at Marshall and his wife, she was certain now. It seemed to really work with them.

"Come on, let's go," Derek said, whispering near her ear again, before putting his arm around her waist and leading her out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews! Sorry I am a touch late posting...busy, busy, busy...but I am here now! :)...A touch of tension...a touch..._

The reception hall was packed to capacity. Although the wedding ended at two, the reception didn't start until seven. It was a cocktail reception. Penelope wished she'd known that. She would've eaten more when they grabbed a bite this morning. Derek must've known. He had a huge burger and fries, whereas she had that stupid salad she now regretted completely.

Her tummy was growling; she was absolutely starving. There were only canapé sandwiches. She couldn't eat her fill of those; she didn't want to look like a glutton.

She was offered a glass of wine, took a sip, and it went straight to her head. She frowned a little. Lack of food, free booze…She was going to have to watch it, or she'd embarrass Morgan and be absolutely shitfaced by the time she left.

Derek helped himself to a beer, then started waving across the dance floor. "Mike! Hey!" He grabbed her much the same way he grabbed the beer and took off at a clip to a crowd of guys standing nearby.

Two of the men were the foxy groomsmen from the wedding. It figured that Derek would have friends that rivaled him in looks. Beautiful people flocked together like ducks on a pond.

"Morgan!" the crowd collectively yelled. There was a lot of fist bumping, hand shaking, half hugs, all that manly gesture stuff going on, until one of the groomsmen noticed her.

"Well, _hello there_," the completely stunning brunette smoothly stated. He smiled, the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. She thought she might have to rethink her thoughts on Derek being the most handsome of the group. She was trying not to stare, but it was hard. Holy cow, this man was delicious. He was the same size as Derek, similar warm brown eyes, but his smile…it was mesmerizing.

"Hi," she stammered weakly, mentally kicking herself. The man was obviously interested and she only managed to squeak out a mousy greeting.

"Ah, Rick," Derek remarked, his attention fully on the other man. He looped his arm around her waist again. "This is my date for the evening, Penelope."

She noticed the shift in greeting Derek gave this man in comparison to Marshall . Now, when a non-married man was paying attention, she was his girlfriend? Typical. She decided to shift that greeting right back where they were before.

"I'm Derek's best friend and colleague from the FBI," she interjected, reaching her hand out to the hunk.

"I am so pleased to meet you," Rick murmured, bending over her hand. "May I?"

Wow. She couldn't believe he was asking permission to kiss her hand. A thrill of delight filled her as she responded, "Of course."

"Rick, step aside and let me meet her," a good looking blonde said, butting in before Rick could kiss her hand.

"Hey, me, too," the original one named Mike added, stepping away from Derek.

"Hey," Derek said, putting his arm more possessively around Penelope. "I brought her, she's my date, I get to make the introductions."

Penelope realized they were all teasing, trying to get Derek's goat. Still, it was very flattering.

"Pen, this motley crew is the group I played college football with until I blew my knee out," he said. He started pointing out the men. "Mike, Paul, Rick, Tom, Sam, Isaac and of course, Marshall is one, too."

"Like brothers," Isaac commented. "He can't get rid of us."

Derek shrugged, but the twinkle was in his eyes. "Believe me; I tried."

"So," Rick asked, still smiling at Penelope, "you are an agent, too?"

"Technical analyst," she retorted. " That means I am a computer goddess and the keeper of the fount of knowledge for my friends."

"I like it," Rick said, nodding. "And the goddess part is fitting."

The rest of the guys chatted away with Derek, while Rick paid the most attention to Penelope. They moved from the bar and made it to one of the long tables. Pen found herself drinking more wine than she probably should. She liked Rick, he was kind of quiet in comparison to the other macho men there.

"I was two years under the rest of them when they started. I'm a quarterback," he explained, explaining the dynamic to Pen. "I was Derek's backup for the first part of the year before he got hurt."

"He was really good, wasn't he?" she asked.

"One of the best," Rick said. "Taught me a lot, too. He was like a big brother."

"He's kind of like that with me, too. Very overprotective like that."

"I can see that; he has one eye on you all the time." Rick looked down the table where Derek was sitting. "Doesn't look brotherly to me, though."

Penelope glanced down to where Derek was and raised her drink in a salute to him. Derek smiled back, then stood up and walked away.

She was chatting away with Rick when Derek made it back with another glass of wine. He put it on the table in front of her, put his hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her ear again. "I thought you could use a refill."

It happened again, that shiver of awareness that seemed to happen when she was around Derek. She turned to look up and caught his eyes. No, she wasn't wrong before. There was really no one better looking than Morgan. He wasn't just handsome, he was magnetically sexy.

She smiled back. "Thanks.".

"You doing okay down here?" he questioned.

He was looking at her rather intently, so much that her stomach flipped despite itself. She nodded and smiled again, but he didn't leave. A big part of her wished he would stay, and that warmth seemed to radiate between them. She was so intently focused on him, she didn't even notice anyone else in the-

"Hey, Morgan!" Sam called, announcing the arrival of a woman to the table. "Come meet Clarice. She wants to meet you, Mr. F-B-I."

Penelope glanced down the table at the woman. She was exactly Derek's type, svelte, pretty, and draped on Sam. It was perfect timing, snapping her out of any stupid wine induced fantasy in her head..

She patted his arm. "You better go, handsome. That one looks pretty peachy to me."

He didn't remove his hands from her shoulders.

"I'll entertain her, Derek," Rick added quickly. "Your _best friend_ and _colleague_ is in good hands, if she doesn't mind?"

She laughed. "Of course I don't mind."

She felt Derek's hands squeeze just a bit tighter, and wondered what that tension was all about. Probably just being overprotective as usual.

She shook her head, and said, "D, Go."

He sighed, kissed the top of her head, then walked away.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews, folks, and the alerts and faves. Much appreciated! Publishing early today; going to rock out to a hair metal band tonight! LOL..._

A lot more drinks and another hour passed. Derek was having an okay time, talking with the guys about old times and kicking back. He was flirting with Clarice and a couple of the other girls down at his end of the table. They were obviously interested, laughing at every joke, batting their eyes. He'd even told some really stupid jokes on purpose, and they'd laughed anyway.

In spite of the attention he'd been getting, Derek felt restless. He was feeling kind of bored and dissatisfied. Derek was a hunter, and these women made the hunt way too easy. They seemed really artificial, too. He just couldn't get into them, or what they were saying.

Probably because he kept looking down the table at a certain redhead...

He glanced over and saw Rick pick up a piece of her hair again. He growled and took a sip of his beer. That was the fourth time he'd played with one of Penelope's red curls. It was irritating Derek. He didn't like the guy very much, but it was obvious Penelope did. It irked him how the bastard fawned over her. He was waiting for P to flick him off of her like she would a piece of lint.

About an hour later, the crowd thinned. The older people and the very young left for the night, leaving behind just the team and a few younger adults. They all moved together down the table, so Derek was finally in hearing distance to what Rick was saying to Penelope.

She was laughing huskily, kind of like when she teased him on the phone. "Yes, I like this song," she said, smiling at Rick.

"Dance with me?" Rick asked hopefully. "I mean, if you would like to dance."

Derek was waiting with baited breath. He'd asked her enough times, he knew exactly what her answer was going to be. _I don't dance_.

His jaw nearly dropped open when he saw her stand up and take Rick's proffered hand out to the dance floor.

Now, instead of being plain irritated, Derek was downright pissed.

* * *

After less than a minute, in her teetering high heels and her too short, very low cut dress, Penelope wondered what she'd gotten herself into. She didn't dance; what was she doing on the floor with this hunk? He went to put his arm around her, and she stumbled a little bit.

"I'm sorry," she said, flushing nearly to her hairline.

"Don't be nervous," Rick said, lowering his hands to her bottom and pulling her closer. "I'm harmless."

With the warmth radiating from his brown eyes, she didn't doubt his words. She looked over at the other couples and followed their hand placements; one on Rick's shoulder, the other on his upper arm.

Rick was letting her lead him. She could tell. When she moved a certain way, he followed. It was an odd feeling; it felt kind of flat. It certainly wasn't what she'd always seen in movies, the handsome aristocrat leading the lovely lady in a waltz.

He seemed to like what he was doing with her, liked the beat and obviously the attention. It was flattering; he really liked her. He was practically gushing compliments while they danced.

Thankfully, the song didn't last long. He smiled at her, and they walked back to the table.

It was only then she noticed D. He was looking at her with narrowed eyes, a slight tick in his jaw. It was obvious he was pissed.

He stood right when she arrived at her seat. "Let's dance."

"I think I'll-"

He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, "For five years, I have been asking you to dance with me, and you never have. I think you _owe_ me."

She pulled back a little, ready to tell him where to stick it, when she really looked at him. He was still somewhat angry, but even more, she noticed he looked hurt. That surprised her, and highly influenced her answer.

"Okay," she said, taking his hand..

His palm felt warm and secure as he drew her through the small crowd of dancers. He led her to the middle of the dance floor and drew her into his arms. She could smell the faint scent of beer, his woodsy aftershave he had in the green bottle, and musky male. The music was loud, although it was a slower R&B influenced dance tune with a very intimate beat.

The intimacy of the situation dawned on her, and her pulse began to speed up. She started to panic. "I am a terrible dancer, Derek. I really am."

He arched a brow. "Why do you say that? You got two feet; you can dance."

"I'm awful," she said, and then admitted, "and I'm tipsy."

"Good. That'll loosen you up. You're kind of stiff. That's not my girl; my girl is free and easy, " he teased, a twinkle in his eyes. He coaxed, "Come on, baby, let me…there you go."

He moved one hand on her low back, while the other held her hand between their bodies. "Just like this," he murmured. Slowly, they started to sway a little, barely moving.

They danced together for just a moment, Penelope following the foot movements and relaxing in his arms. "I think I got it…"

"So," he asked, raising a brow, "why do you think you're an awful dancer?"

She blushed. "I've tried and failed; every boyfriend said I was terrible. So I finally asked my favorite uncle, Irwin."

"What did he say?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that caused chills to rise on her arms.

"He told me I have a terrible tendency to lead, that the men that danced with me had to fight me to dance."

He smiled at her wickedly. "That's not your fault, baby. That just means you were dancing with the wrong guys all these years."

She looked over at another couple gliding by, and wished she looked like them.

He put his hand under her chin and made her look at him. "Ignore them. Look at me."

He didn't give her the opportunity to disagree; it was a statement, not a request. One look into his dark brown eyes, and she didn't have the ability to fight against it, even if she'd wanted to. And the way the blood was thrilling through her body, she didn't have any desire to fight it.

It was so natural; there was no conscious effort to dance with him. Where Rick's hands lay lax, Derek's led. She'd never had that feeling before. She was completely under his control; each effortless fluid movement was driven from him. She didn't mind. How could she? She was secure, melting into him.

His hands moved down her low back, down to her bottom, driving the rhythmic movement of the dance. Her thighs brushed his, her breasts were flattened against his chest. She raised her hands to rest on his shoulders, feeling the rippling movement of his muscles under the smooth fabric of his shirt.

And it felt so good.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol or pure magic, but she wanted this to continue forever. She pressed herself closer to him, wanting to feel more of whatever this was. Her breath was coming in faster pants, but she didn't feel unsteady. They moved in tandem, in perfect synchrony. He kept her stable in his strong embrace.

The song ended, and slowly, Derek brought them to a stop. Her hands were draped on his shoulders; she was looking up at him with the biggest, warmest, sexiest brown eyes he'd ever seen. The force of desire hit him like a Mack truck; he'd never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Penelope at that moment.

She swayed a little, then hiccupped. It was obvious she was more than a little tipsy; she was plain old drunk. Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What in the hell was he thinking? He'd coaxed many women into his bed before, but he wasn't going to take advantage of his drunk best friend. He was rather disgusted with himself for dancing with her like he had in the first place.

He looked down into her glazed eyes and nearly groaned. There was the glaze from alcohol, but in equal amounts was passion that she wasn't even bothering to tamp down. Taking care of her tonight was going to kill him.

He looked down in her eyes. "Baby, you ready to go?"

She rose on her tiptoes and kissed the side of his neck, her lips brushing against his skin as she said, "Take me home, handsome."

* * *

Penelope's head was spinning, and her heart was singing. She'd had way too much to drink. She should've stopped after that fourth glass of wine, but after a while, it didn't seem to matter so much what she drank. She'd already been tipsy; might as well keep drinking.

She looked over to where Derek was driving. He looked kind of sullen. She couldn't figure out what the problem was, so she asked. "Hey, Hot Stuff? Didn't you have fun?"

He looked over at her and smiled. "Yes, I did. You all right?"

"I feel mahvelous, dahling. Absolutely mahvelous." She started to giggle. She couldn't control her mouth from saying silly things. Oh well, it was just Morgan. He didn't care.

He pulled up to the hotel's valet parking. He hopped out, and the valet went to open her door. When she went to climb out of the truck, her heel caught on the running board. She swayed forward. Derek ran over to catch her and lifted her into his arms.

"Oops!" she said, giggling again.

He carried her through the hotel lobby and up the elevator. He was still looking very stoic.

"You look grumpy, peaches." She pressed her fingers to the corners of his mouth, pressing upward. "Smile!"

He did smile then, just a little bit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. "Yay! I get a ride."

"P, I am going to remind you of this in the morning," he said with a half grin.

She giggled. "I don't mind; not one teensy bit. Remind away!"

He finally made it to the room. He sat her on the bed and took off her teetering heels. Then he walked to his side of the room.

She just sat there.

He stood by his bed and pulled his shirt over his head. He was unfastening his belt, when he looked up and saw her staring.

"My God, you're magnificent," she said breathily.

One look at her face, and he knew she meant every word of that. He immediately hardened, cursed his willpower, and again cursed the amount of alcohol she'd drunk.

He sighed. "I am _definitely_ going to remind you of that one. Penelope, go to bed."

She stood up then, pulled off her red dress, and climbed into her bed in only her red panties and red bra. Within two minutes, she was snoring.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_AN: Sorry so late, guys! I was out shopping with the daughter and we bought wigs for halloween. OMG, funny! Had lots of fun...Thanks for the reviews! Now on with the show..._

Penelope woke to the smell of coffee in the room. She tried to raise her head, but it was no use. When she overindulged, which she rarely did, she knew it was best to keep her head flat on the pillow for as long as possible. She opened her eyes and groaned at the intrusion of bright daylight.

"Good morning, pretty baby."

She turned her head towards the direction of the voice to see a very chipper Derek sitting on the edge of his bed. He was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt that had some popular brand on it, trendy thing that he was. She couldn't tell what brand; her vision was too foggy without her glasses. He was holding two cups of coffee.

At least, that's what it smelled like.

"Morning," she croaked out. God, this was awful. Her mouth tasted like a barnyard, her head ached, and she knew she looked worse than she ever had in her entire life.

Her hand fumbled on the nightstand as she reached for her glasses. She put them on, then pulled back the blankets and sat up.

"Oh my God," she said, looking down at what she was wearing, or rather, at the lack of what she was wearing.

"Don't worry; this is nothing new for me," he said casually when she pulled the sheet up to her neck.

_Of course it wasn't,_ she thought peevishly. He'd had two or three women waking up like this at times in his life. That didn't make it any better for her account.

"Well, it is to me," she retorted, putting her hands on her face. "God, I must look awful."

"No," he cajoled with a teasing smirk. "Actually, I'd say you look….magnificent."

She sat up a little straighter and held the blanket tighter. He'd emphasized that last word, like it was important. It sounded familiar, but she only had a vague memory of it.

From the look on his face, she decided she didn't _want _to know what that was all about.

"Come on, get dressed." When she hesitated, he rolled his eyes. "Garcia, people wear less on the beach. Stop worrying." He walked over to the window and opened the drapes wider, letting the sun in full blast.

She took a deep breath. He was right. In the past, she'd actually dreamed of being in her sexy panties in front of him, but never quite in this fashion! She gave up thinking about it and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, giving her head a chance to stop spinning.

"What a day!" he exclaimed, sounding like an early morning weather announcer. "In fact, I'd say it's… what's the word? Oh, yes!" He paused dramatically. "_Magnificent!_"

Now she _really_ didn't want to know what that word was all about.

She closed her eyes, groaned, and then opened them. She stood, sighed, and walked to the table to get her coffee. "Thanks for the coffee."

"I got it your way," he said, turning away from the window. "Two creams…"

His voice trailed off. He stared at her, at every inch of bare skin she had hanging out. She knew at that moment, he was wrong. This was indeed a _big deal_ to him. He couldn't meet her eyes; he kept focused directly at her double D's. She could tell he was trying to compose himself, but he was obviously failing miserably.

It felt kinda good, actually.

"I know people wear less at the beach," she murmured, trying to direct his attention back to her face. "I just have more to cover."

He looked up and said something completely unintelligible. It sounded like, "Mergh."

There was no doubt he was shocked; that was plain to be seen on his face. But right along with that surprise, there was no doubt he _liked_ what he was seeing. What should've been damned embarrassing for her, turned out to be very flattering. A thrill ran through her, before she squashed it.

It was Morgan, after all. He wasn't exactly discriminating when it came to women.

Suddenly, she remembered what that _magnificent_ was all about. At first, she felt mortified. God, what was she thinking when she'd said_ that_? However, his reaction now….

She grinned to herself and knew exactly what she was going to do to even the score. She reached for her outfit, took a sip of her coffee, and gave him a sexy smile.

"Hey, Derek."

He pulled himself out of it enough to finally look up at her face.

"Guess there's more than one _magnificent_ person in the room, hmmm?"

And she sashayed into the bathroom, still smiling.

* * *

Derek sat on the edge of his bed, trying to tamp down the rampant arousal he felt.

_Holy shit._

That was all he could think the minute he'd turned around. He'd tried, he'd really, _really_ tried, to look up at her face when she'd started to talk, but he physically had been unable do it. His chin had locked downward, his dick had locked upward, and he'd been done. The moment he'd been faced with those breasts…only _holy__ shit _had come to mind.

He'd always been a boob and butt man. It was ingrained to his way of thinking. He liked lush women who _looked _like women. A lot of women dieted unnecessarily in his book, to the point where they had no ass at all. He liked girly girls, with their girly _accessories_.

Garcia dressed in a low cut shirt nearly every day. It was something he'd loved every day of the week, too. He'd always had a fixation on what those breasts looked like out of the shirt. He'd had a lot of thoughts about that, pictured them, actually. The reality...the reality put his thoughts to shame. Pale, perfect, round, high, edged by red lace that had been begging to be peeled back, definitely more than a mouthful… he was never going to forget that. Not one day in his life.

He'd thought he'd do himself a favor and look down a little, to get his crap together. His eyes had trailed over her softly round tummy down to a pair of nearly see through red lace panties. They'd covered quite a bit—they weren't bikini style or anything like that—but they were _lace,_ for fuck's sake! He'd even given it his best shot, trying to see completely though, before he'd stopped himself. He was a man, not some teenager sneaking a peek!

He'd heard her talking, but seriously couldn't understand a word she was saying through the rushing of blood in his head. Everything in him that was primal and male had been telling him to take the woman, throw her on the bed, and make wild love to her.

It was still saying it to him.

She'd said his name to break him out of her bewitching spell. He'd looked up at her face, and that hadn't helped, either. She had messy hair, smudgy makeup, and a come hither smile, like they'd spent the night together, doing exactly what his brain so wanted him to do.

However, the moment she'd opened her mouth to talk again, her smart and sassy mouth, he'd been reminded of exactly who she was and what she was. This was not a woman to toy with; this was Garcia, his best friend. He wanted to sleep with her; it was nearly a necessity now, but he couldn't approach her on that.

She was mouthy, opinionated, strong-willed Garcia. Someone he was meant to be a buddy with. Not one of his lovers, not generally girlfriend material. In honesty, he thought higher of her than he did of most of the women he dated. Penelope was the kind of woman who would marry some lucky bastard, raise a passel of cute kids, and have some perfect, neat little house.

He just knew he wasn't that guy.

That thinking was finally working on dampening the erection still in his pants. He could do this. He could remain her friend and her colleague, even knowing the delights she had under those colorful clothes of hers. Hell, she'd thought he was _magnificent_, too.

A wicked thought crossed his mind, and he smirked to himself. She thought he was _magnificent_ now, and she hadn't even seen him with his boxers off yet!

He shook his head. Damn. He had to stop thinking that way. He heard the toilet flush and stood, knowing he had to face her again. He had decisions to make. Either he jumped the woman, or he just kept up the teasing foreplay they'd been doing for years and stayed her best friend.

"Ready?" she asked, a wicked little grin on her face.

He knew what he'd decided, and he started again right now.

"Baby," he teased, "you know I'm always ready."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews!...As for the story...Now we're moving along in the right directions...well, one of them is at least!_

It was two weeks after they'd returned from the wedding, and things went back to normal. Derek was remarkably like he'd always been, teasing and flirting. She was teasing and flirting right back, trying her best not to remember that he'd seen her nearly naked-and that she'd seen more lust in his eyes than any other man she'd ever known. It had been like the movies; he'd looked like he was going to ravish her.

She found herself thinking a lot about what it would be like, if she just walked up to him and asked him to ravish her.

What really sucked was that she still felt those electric surges, like when they'd been dancing. Those hints of awareness of the possibility of awesomeness every time he touched her. He touched her a lot. He'd always touched her a lot, but now she noticed it acutely. In her office when he'd had to ask a question, his hands drifted to her shoulders. In group meetings, he usually sat close to her, bumping her knee with his. She couldn't fault him or ask him to stop; he hadn't changed.

But she had.

It was her problem she couldn't ignore what she was feeling. She knew what it was, too. She was feeling lust: big time, unapologetic, hot and bothered lust. She wished she could transfer this feeling to someone else, then get it on with that other person for her own mental health. Instead, this inappropriate feeling stayed firmly planted for the most inappropriate and ineligible man.

She missed him, too, as her best friend. Derek had asked her to a movie, but she'd turned him down. She hadn't trusted herself not to jump the man. If there was something remotely sexy in the movie, she'd probably beg him to screw her, fast and hard. She'd be crawling all over his _magnificent_ chest.

It _was_ magnificent; why lie about it?

She shook her head. She'd been without sex for too long. That was her problem. She may have dumped Kevin over two weeks ago, but she hadn't had sex with him for a lot longer than that. She was going on well over four months, nearly five. Sex with Kevin had never been a priority. He'd been good in bed, actually, but he didn't live and breathe and prowl sex like Derek did. Ooh, she knew that Derek would be-

Penelope stopped herself with a sigh. She was doing it _again_. She needed to stop thinking of the man in that capacity. He didn't want her. He'd had every opportunity to have her lately, and hadn't taken her. She hadn't led him on, though. She didn't really want him, either. Chauvinistic, controlling Derek was not her idea of an ideal lover. She knew that, so why didn't her libido get it?

Disgusted, she picked up a head of lettuce and stuck it in her cart. She didn't want to be in the grocery store, but she'd promised the rest of the techs she would bring a taco salad to the potluck on Monday. She didn't want to let them down. She'd been reaching for an onion, when her hand touched someone else.

"Sorry," she said at the same time as the other person.

"Penelope?"

She looked up to see gorgeous Rick from the wedding. "Well, hey there, stranger."

"Hey," he said, putting down the onion. "Good to see you." He glanced around with curiosity. "Where's Derek?"

She thought that was an odd question, but she answered it anyway. "Probably out with some woman. It's Friday night; that's Derek's _modus operandi_."

"Oh," he said, looking rather surprised. "Well, I just thought-"

She looked at him quizzically. "What?"

"Well, the way you two were dancing at the wedding, I just assumed you were a couple."

She gave him an odd look. "How were we dancing?"

"All over each other," he stated bluntly.

She blushed immediately and started to stammer. "Well, ah...um... We're not."

"Amazing," he said with awe, and then spoke quickly. "Not that I'm not glad you aren't a couple. No, quite the opposite. Actually, I'd wanted to give you my number, but I'd thought…" He started to blush a bit, too.

"Oh," she said. She remembered him being nice and very cute, but she didn't remember much more than that. Too much wine. She must've made more of an impression on him.

He continued at a rapid pace,"See, I live in Triangle, not too far from here. It's a nice town. I work in a law firm there, and I have a house-"

Poor guy was really babbling. He was obviously nervous, and he obviously wanted to ask her out. She decided to help him, and herself, out. "Rick, would you like to go out sometime?"

He positively beamed at her. She remembered that; he had one of the finest smiles she'd ever seen on a man. "Yes. I would love to."

"Here," she said, jotting her number down on the back of a receipt she had in her purse. "I have both home and work on there. Call me sometime."

"Oh, I will," he said, that big smile never leaving his face.

She winked at him. "See you around, handsome."

She pushed her cart away, smiling for the first time since she'd entered the store. She had prospects for a date, and it wasn't with a geek…or someone hopelessly inappropriate.

* * *

Derek was out on the third date with a woman he knew wasn't going to work. She was beautiful-a tall, gorgeous brunette who obviously wanted to sleep with him. She was funny, too, hung on every word he said, was easy going and nice, and was a damn good dancer. She was just what he'd always wanted in a woman.

Only one problem.

Her name was Babette: Babette Nicolette Honfleur. She had French parents who'd named her Babette, and had gorgeous French genes. She was exquisite. He didn't have anything against Babette; it was a great name, as far as he was concerned. It was her _nickname_ he couldn't get used to.

_Baby._

Every time he went to kiss her, every single fucking time, a different "baby" came to mind. The stirring of passion he felt wasn't for this brunette; it was for a curvy redhead in nearly see through panties and a red bra-

Derek swore viciously. He was doing it _again_. For the last two weeks, he'd tried like hell not to think about it. He'd flirted, he'd touched, he'd done all the stuff he'd always done with her. He'd even asked her to a movie, but she'd been too busy to go. He was being _normal_, but it wasn't working. He couldn't stop thinking about that weekend, how good it felt being with her, and how much he'd wanted her.

To top off his string of bad luck, he'd been having trouble sleeping again. That brought back memories of her, too. He'd been laying in bed, eyes closed, and he could almost feel the warmth of her, the softness, the caring presence of her. He'd been nearly desperate enough to call her; it was five days of not sleeping. However, he didn't trust himself enough to have her in his bed _helping_ him.

He removed his lips from the desperate brunette moaning under him. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with distress. "Derek?"

He felt awful, getting this far with this woman, just to pull back."Sorry, honey-"

"_Baby_," she encouraged, kissing the side of his neck. "You never call me my name, love. Say it." She put her hands firmly on his shoulders, leaning her svelte body into his.

He knew then what he needed to do. He'd made the wrong decision, thinking that he could just be P's friend and be the same. He wanted her; she wanted him. He couldn't move on, he didn't _want to _move on, until he'd at least tried with Penelope. He didn't know if it would work-they were very opposite in some ways-but he had to at least try.

He reached for Babette's wrists and moved them down. "Like I'd said….Sorry."

"No, cher," she moaned, leaning his way.

He stood up, grabbed his coat, and left.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews, folks. On with the show..._

He was nervous.

For the first time in a million years, Derek was nervous. He didn't know why he was stressing out so much. There had been so much Derek had figured out in the two weeks since he'd given up on Babette…and Susan...and Caroline...and any other woman that wasn't named _Penelope_. He knew what he had to do: he needed to see if his best friend would go out with him.

Out.

With _him_.

On a genuine, certified, serious, most likely _life-altering_ date. One that would hopefully end in a kiss, or even more, if he was really, really lucky...and if he guessed right about her feelings, too. That would tell him for sure this was the right thing to do.

However, knowing and doing were two completely different things.

It wasn't that he was uncertain; he knew it was the right thing to do. He wanted her, really, really badly. Not just sexually-although his other head was telling him that was a huge part of it. The fact was, he thought so highly of her, her opinion mattered so much, he wanted her around all the time. Definitely not just as a buddy, either. Hell, no.

He wanted her friendship, to sit with her and sort things out like he'd used to, to relax with her and debate issues. The last few women he'd dated, they hadn't had an opinion on anything of substance. He didn't want that anymore, although he'd once been absolutely _sure_ that was what he wanted. Now he thought maybe, _just_ maybe, he'd been wrong in what he'd wanted in a woman.

Because right now, Garcia looked to be exactly what he wanted, in every single sense of the word.

He walked to her office, carrying a coffee for her in one hand and for himself in the other. He'd even been nervous buying it for her- he wanted it to be perfect. Right now, he wished he had a mirror, so he could check what he looked like. He'd had a sandwich for breakfast; he hoped he didn't have anything in his teeth...

He sighed. He was stalling. Putting on his thousand watt smile, he put both coffees in one hand, turned the doorknob, then walked in. "Good morning, princess."

"Oh, hold on, Rick," she said quickly, pushing a button with her fuzzy tipped pen. She turned to smile at him. "Hiya, Hot Stuff. For me?" She pointed at the cup he was holding.

"Ah…yeah," he said, smiling crookedly at her. "Rick who?"

Penelope looked up at him. Derek didn't look quite like himself. He looked kind of upset. Even his smile was off, like his stomach hurt or something. She was about to ask him, but then she stopped herself. She was reading too much into it. There was probably nothing wrong with the man. So, instead, she smiled, and ventured on.

"This is too funny not to share. I was at the grocery store a couple of weeks ago, and…well, here!" She pushed the speaker button. "Say hi, handsome."

"Hi," Derek responded immediately.

At the exact same time, Rick's voice on the other line said,"Hi, precious."

"Who the hell are you calling precious?" Derek asked. He scowled at her switchboard, like it was something foul.

Penelope's laughter tinkled in her office, matching Rick's laughter on the other line. "That was Morgan, Rick."

"Well, Derek, my man! How are you? Treating my girl good over there?"

Derek laughed a little, smiling. "I _always_ treat her good. She's _my_ best girl."

"Yeah," Rick answered, his cheerful voice sounding very clear. "She tells me that all the time."

"Really." He was looking at Penelope, obviously not too pleased with the turn of events. "What's up here? Why didn't you tell me?"

She realized she was wrong, then. That look had meant something. Exactly what it meant, she didn't know.

She found herself feeling kind of defensive. "It just happened, we-"

He narrowed his eyes at her, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "And you didn't think to mention it to me that you were seeing one of _my_ old friends?"

"I..I..,"she began to stammer, but then a light bulb went off in her head. She knew the look he had, knew _exactly_ what he was thinking. He was jealous. In his own semi-platonic, uber flirty way, he was upset she had someone else.

The realization completely floored her. Derek Morgan-Derek new-girl-every-three-days Morgan- was _jealous_ because he wasn't the only dog in her backyard. She was so bowled over, she found herself unable to talk. Fortunately, she was saved from saying anything by her rescuer on the phone.

"Hey, Derek?" Rick questioned from the line. "I asked her, I made sure there was nothing between you before I dated her. I wouldn't want to poach on your territory."

He was still looking at her, so oddly she could barely think, much less talk.

"Well?" he asked, his dark eyes boring into hers with accusation.

That made her upset. He had no right to act like she was in the wrong. He wasn't judge and jury in her relationships! She didn't need him like that in her life; he wasn't her father.

"I don't have to explain my actions to you, Derek. I'm allowed to have a private life," she snapped. She paused, staring at him, waiting for a reaction.

The stare down continued for immeasurable seconds before he spoke, and it wasn't to her.

"Hey, Rick; you're not poaching. She's just a friend." He looked up at Penelope without his smile and continued, "And she's all yours."

He put her coffee down and left her office.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Penelope felt awful and kind of guilty. She hadn't told Derek because...well, she didn't exactly _know_ why she hadn't said anything to him.

She had told herself he might think it was weird she was going out with one of his friends. It wasn't serious anyway between her and Rick. He was a nice guy, a very kind guy, and she could see herself falling for him…maybe.

There was a noticeable lack of something. She couldn't put a finger on it. If she could figure it out, she'd fix it. He was really cute and so very sweet. He even let her pick all the movies. He didn't really push about anything; it wasn't in his nature. He was gentle, kind, not at all chauvinistic. He let her get her own doors and open her own beer bottles. Derek had never let her do any of that stuff. It was kind of nice to be independent...kinda.

Rick could really kiss, though. She'd learned that Saturday night. He was a hell of a good kisser, she'd almost seen fireworks. She'd never even came close to that with Kevin. It made her wonder what Rick was like in bed. He seemed to want to go that route also, and would've been agreeable-he agreed with just about everything she'd said-but she couldn't do it.

It didn't feel right. Not yet.

Frustrated, she stuck her fuzzy pen back in the cup on her desk with a vengeance. She huffed. She had a perfectly nice man, and she was finding fault with him and feeling guilty about not telling Morgan.

Why did it matter, anyway? Derek didn't tell her about every broad he went out with. Albeit, they weren't her college buddies, but if they were…

She couldn't lie to herself; she'd care. She'd want to know. She knew she would. That's why she felt so rotten not saying anything.

Taking a deep breath to fortify herself, she hit number one on the speed dial at work.

"This is Morgan. Leave a message. Ciao."

Immediately, she said in a rush, "HotstuffI'msorry."

She took another deeper breath; he was her best friend, and the message she'd just left wasn't good enough. "Derek, sweetness, I'm sorry. I should've said something to you about Rick. I didn't know how we'd hit it off, and it seemed strange talking to you about it. If it were me, I would've wanted to know. Forgive me?"

She hung up the phone and hoped for the best.

* * *

About two hours later, she answered the phone, "The all knowing and all gorgeous goddess of Quantico, at your service."

"That's my girl," he said with a chuckle.

"Morgan!" She couldn't keep the delight out of her voice; she was happy he'd called her. She calmed a little. "Hey, there. What can I do for you?"

"Baby, I just wanted you to know; I'm sorry, too," he said. "I don't have the right to pry in your business. I was only surprised, and-."

"No, baby," she interrupted. "I should've told you. I didn't know how you'd react and -"

"Obviously I reacted poorly, so you were justified," he said rather flatly.

"True," she answered with a giggle.

After that, there was such a long silence on the line, she thought she'd lost him. "D?"

"I'm here, baby."

Her heart ached a bit. Although it all looked good on paper, she knew it wasn't quite the same.

"Listen, sugar," he said quickly. "I gotta go. Talk to you tonight, okay?"

"Sure."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews, folks...I know it is wrong to say, but I freaking love this chapter! LOL...Big ol' huge chapter to rest with while I post my halloween story (Six chapters- three days...then back to this! My birthday is October 30th, so I got to get with the holiday, you know!)..._

It took a couple of days before Penelope and Derek were back to teasing, flirting, and joking like they used to on the phone. She'd felt that he'd been somewhat standoffish, and he'd declared that _nothing was wrong_ more times than she could bear it. So, she gave up asking, they slowly moved back to being pals again, and she never mentioned Rick.

Everything was fine.

It was two weeks later, when Derek was chatting with her about nothing one night, and suddenly he'd said, "Listen. I called Rick-"

That shocked her. "You did what?"

"Well, sugar," he drawled slowly. "You never mention him; I started wondering if you were still going out."

She bristled. He was up to no good; she could just sense it. "We are; getting ready to go on our fourth date, in fact."

"Good for you."

She could tell he was suspicious. "You don't need to get involved, D. I'm a big girl-"

"Whoa! Easy there!" he interrupted, laughing. " I'm not _getting involved_, not for what you're thinking. I'm done with that big brother crap you always say I do. I just wanted to see if you two were up for a double date Friday."

The man could have knocked her over with a feather. He'd never wanted to go out on any sort of combined date before.

Then again, he'd truly hated Kevin, and Rick was his friend.

"You did?" she croaked, her voice betraying her nervousness.

"Yeah, I did, and he'd said you were planning on going out." He paused for a second. "I thought I could bring Carly and have some fun."

Carly? Who was Carly? He'd never mentioned a Carly before.

She shook her head to clear out the fuzz; he was still talking, and she didn't have a clue what he'd said. "D, bad reception. Repeat that, please."

"I asked if you were okay with the plan."

She sighed. "Well, sure, if it's all right with Rick."

"He said- and I quote-'_Whatever my darling Penelope wants is fine with me_.'"

Penelope could hear the teasing in Derek's voice on that, and it immediately raised her hackles. What a shit! Of course, _any_ man that _cared_ what a woman actually thought would be less than stellar in Morgan's mind. Chauvinistic jerk that he could be, he probably pointed to a restaurant and dragged his girlfriends there by the hair!

"He's a nice guy, Derek," she growled.

"I know he is," he answered without a hint of sarcasm. "He's very nice. A good guy. An environmental lawyer; you'd be set for life."

Although his tone sounded right, something was not right in Derek's voice. She'd had enough. "All right, buster. What's the scoop?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." She could practically see his wide, faux innocent eyes over the phone.

She wasn't buying it. "You sound like what you're saying is an insult, Derek. What's the deal?"

"Quit being paranoid, P," he quipped. "I just didn't think his type was your type, really."

"What do you mean by that?"

He ignored her and added pleadingly, "Come on, one double date, that's all I'm asking. See if it works."

She had serious misgivings, but something inside her made her answer him.

"All right."

* * *

Rick had picked Penelope up at her apartment sharply at nine. He'd gone up to get her at the door, which was nice, but when they'd arrived at the expensive sports car he drove, he hadn't opened her car door.

It hadn't surprised her; Rick never opened her door at restaurants or anywhere. She was just so used to Derek doing that, she'd actually stood there for a minute, before she'd opened it herself. Not that she couldn't handle her own door. That was no big deal, really. She just had to remind herself Rick didn't need to prove his manhood by opening doors, making her feel less capable.

This was the first date they'd had where he'd driven. Normally, they'd meet somewhere after work, or she'd drive. Being a lawyer, and one of the youngest at his firm, Rick worked long hours and even some weekends. He was going to make partner soon, which was a huge accomplishment. She was rather proud of him. She didn't mind driving; Derek had always insisted on picking her up.

She chatted with Rick the whole drive there. He was a good conversationalist. He was similar to Derek in that fashion, charming, kind, handsome, and easy to talk to. He always asked her opinion about things.

"What's your favorite kind of music?" she asked him, genuinely curious.

"Oh, I like country and bluegrass."

She shook her head. "Not a big fan of that."

"Oh, well, uh...neither am I," he said quickly.

"Okay," she said with a confused grin. "It's all right if you like different music. I like alternative, so-"

"I do, too," he answered just as quickly.

She dropped the subject, since he seemed nervous about it. It wasn't important anyway, and they had a lot of other things in common.

When they arrived at the restaurant, the valet opened her door and she climbed out. She walked to the door with Rick and entered. It was a very elegant building. They were eating at one of the hotels in town. On the top floor was a restaurant and lounge that revolved, giving a three sixty view of the night sky.

Derek was standing in the waiting area with a stunning brunette. She was wearing a long dress with a halter neckline, and was draped on Derek like a coat. Amazingly, he was looking at the door instead of the woman, and smiled directly at her when she walked in.

"Carly, there she is," Derek said, smiling. "This is my best friend, Penelope, and my college friend, Rick. Everyone, this is Carly...my cousin."

Penelope blinked for a minute. She hadn't been expecting that. Now that she looked, Carly wasn't exactly draped on him, as much as she was just holding his arm. Penelope felt like a heel for making a snap judgment.

"Pleased to meet you," Carly said, shaking Penelope's hand. "Derek has told me a lot about you."

"All good, I hope!" She blushed. The more she looked at the beautiful woman with her stunning café au lait skin, the more she looked like Derek.

"Oh, yes," she answered, smiling. "Actually, the whole family knows about his baby gi-"

"All right," Derek interrupted quickly. "Let's get the table, shall we?"

Penelope glanced at Derek and couldn't help smiling as she noticed just the slightest heightened color on his cheeks.

The maître d' lead them to the table. Derek held out Carly's chair, who murmured her thanks.

Rick sat down immediately, and Penelope had to pull her own chair out.

The maître d' handed Derek the wine list. There was something commanding about Derek that made him the obvious choice as head of a table. Even when joking around, he still had that presence which made him a leader.

Rick's nose was buried in his menu.

"I'm thinking a pinot noir, California vintage," Derek remarked, glancing at Carly for her input.

"Ooh, good choice!"

Derek handed the list to Rick, who began pondering it. The maître d' was obviously waiting, but Rick still couldn't decide. He looked over at Penelope. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

"Pinot noir is my favorite," she said, then looked at the maitre d. "We'll have the same."

"As you wish, ma'am."

Rick picked up her hand and kissed it. "I don't like making those decisions without you, beautiful."

Penelope smiled at him, but it was kind of forced. She began feeling more uncomfortable with her thinking. Admittedly, Derek hadn't made the decision, either. He'd made a suggestion, a damn good one, and everyone rode with it.

Penelope didn't think anymore as the wine was brought, sampled, and poured. The conversation was going along fine, everyone chatting about the old football days, family, and work at the BAU. The waiter returned to take the order.

Derek consulted with Carly, then gave the waiter their order.

Pen took one look at Rick, who glanced up at her.

"Go ahead, dear," he said. "I'm still deciding."

She gave her order, and minutes later, Rick gave his.

After they drifted back to conversation, Penelope couldn't help but notice how comfortable Derek was in his own skin, and how much more handsome and sexy that made him. He was assertive, but not bossy, outspoken, but not loud or rude. His smile went all the way to his eyes, and his laugh was genuine.

Rick looked uncomfortable, fidgeted, and had a hard time making decisions. He laughed nervously, and appeared to have a hard time with crowds. He was the polar opposite of Morgan, and Penelope realized something unfortunate...

D was right: Rick was not her kind of guy. Side by side, there was no comparison between the two men.

After the first course was served, Carly said, "Excuse me, I need to go to the ladies' room."

"Oh, I'll go, too," Pen said, and both ladies stood.

Derek stood also, but Rick stayed seated.

For some reason, that rubbed Penelope the wrong way, too. She realized, there was something nice about a man standing for a woman, a man holding out a chair, a man opening a door. She could do it, but she didn't mind when they did it, either.

On the way to the bathroom, Carly asked, "How long have you been dating Rick?"

"Five weeks," Penelope answered.

_Too long_, her heart secretly answered for her.

"He's very cute."

"Thanks," she mumbled. She thought about saying the same thing about Derek, but since he was her cousin, it probably didn't matter to her.

"You know," Carly began. "Derek really likes you. The whole family thinks the world of you."

Pen smiled. Being Derek's best friend, she'd met the Morgan family years ago; she loved them. "Yeah. Fran and the girls are fantastic people."

"You won their hearts, Penelope." Carly smiled warmly, then opened her stall to go in and added, "All four of them."

Penelope stood there stupefied. There was only Momma Morgan and the two girls, so that fourth person had to be Derek himself.

A fierce want rolled through her. At that moment, watching him tonight, so handsome, the perfect gentleman, she really wanted Derek's heart.

Penelope stood for a minute, looking in the mirror. Her eyes were shining brightly. She was filled with hope. Perhaps...

And then reality hit.

She had to remind herself for a moment who she was thinking about. Mr. No Commitment. Mr. Never Marrying. Mr. Pushing-Forty-and-Still- Doesn't-Want-to-Settle-Down.

The light in her eyes quickly fizzled out. With a sigh, she went into one of the stalls.

* * *

When they returned to the table, Derek rose again to his feet and helped Carly with her chair. Pen pulled her own out and sat in a huff. She knew she was pouting, but she couldn't help it.

Rick saw her, but then spoke up. "As a young law student, I learned something. Chivalry was a sexist thing. It showed superiority of men over women, a need to protect the weaker class. If we want true social equality between genders, chivalry needs to be done away with."

Derek's eyes flashed. "Depends on what you are thinking when you are doing a chivalrous act. For me, it is showing honor and respect to the woman I am with. Both women, in this case, since you aren't doing your job in that facet."

"That's ridiculous," Rick muttered flatly. "I'm not a Neanderthal."

"Derek," warned Carly quietly. She glanced nervously over at Penelope.

Penelope assumed she looked about as worried as Carly did. This was not good.

"There are manners my momma taught me that should be upheld. You're sorely lacking an education in those. I'll be happy to teach you." Derek's eyes were glittering; Penelope had seen that look so many times before…usually before he tore the head off an UNSUB in questioning.

Rick blanched, but stood his ground. "Like I need _you_ to teach me anything-"

"In fact, I'll start now," he spat with menace, completely ignoring the other man's words. "If you don't get up the next time Penelope leaves the table, I will _make_ you get up."

Penelope gasped. "Derek, it's okay-"

"No, Baby Girl, it is _not_ okay," he stressed. "He isn't going to sit here disrespect you while I watch. Hell, no."

Rick stood and tossed his napkin down. "Obviously, I was wrong in thinking after all these years, we could be truly civil to one another, Morgan. Penelope, would you like to go?"

Penelope felt foreboding then. There was no lost love between Derek and Rick, although both men pretended to be friends. She wanted the whole damn story...now.

"Baby Girl, I'll take you home," Derek said, glaring up at Rick. It was a statement, not a question.

She stood. "No, I better go home with Rick. Talk to me _later_, okay?" She looked at him and raised her eyebrows, hinting she wanted him to call her tonight for his side of the story.

Derek's stood, his jaw set. She knew he'd understood. "Fine, angel. Good night."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_AN: Hi everyone! Now that halloween and my birthday are over, we are back to our regularly scheduled broadcast! LOL...Here's a huge ol' chapter, since I interrupted your reading fun!_

It was a miserable car ride home with a whining, angry Rick. He tried saying a lot of things about Derek, things that Penelope knew were patently untrue. She'd never known him to be anything but good, kind, and decent.

He complained about how Derek cheated him in football some twenty years ago, how he'd always had to have the prettiest girls, how he'd made people dislike Rick.

Rick made him sound like an UNSUB.

"Rick, it's okay," she murmured, her head starting to throb. "Just let it be."

"Derek Morgan is an egotistical, self-promoting basta-"

"You know," Penelope began, her voice just a shade under truly pissed. "That is my best friend you are talking about. I would advise you to shut up and drive me home."

"Well, if you didn't want the truth," he snapped, "then _why_ did you ride home with me?"

"Dammed if I know," she muttered, more for herself than for him.

He clamped his lips together and gripped the steering wheel tighter in his hands. It was obviously done between herself and Rick.

And all Penelope cared about was the blessed quiet in the car.

* * *

Penelope showered and pulled on her sassy kitty pajamas. She was sitting on the couch; it was close to midnight, and Derek hadn't called yet. She'd been expecting his call a lot earlier. She had a lot to talk to him about.

She was angry at him, too. He obviously did not get along with Rick, yet he'd mentioned that he wanted the date to happen. He'd planned the whole fiasco, and she couldn't figure out why.

Not only that, he'd brought with his cousin, not a true date. Why did he need to double date if it was his cousin he was bringing? There was no good reason, and it just added to her headache.

She heard a knock on her door. She looked out the peephole, and then opened her door in surprise. "Derek. What are you doing here?"

He took off his suit jacket and hung it up. Taking her hand, he plopped down on her couch, and then tugged her down next to him. She didn't take offense; Derek always made himself at home at her place. She expected it.

His tie was already missing; he unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt and ran a hand over his face. He was obviously grasping for something. He took a deep breath, then sighed and said, "Baby Girl, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He looked confused. "You know..."

"Oh, I know," she said, her eyes narrowing. His response irritated her even more. "There are so _many_ things you need to apologize for. I am just wondering which ones are first."

He actually smiled. "I deserved that."

"Yes, you did."

"I'll start with this one," he replied. "I knew tonight wasn't going to go well, and I still insisted on it."

She looked at him. She'd expected him to say he was sorry for the scene in the restaurant, sorry for kind of lying to her, but she hadn't expected him to apologize for the evening yet. However, she didn't want to rush him. She had a feeling there was a lot to this, and she wanted him to tell the story.

She decided to play it rather safe. "Rick told me tonight you two didn't exactly get along."

Derek closed his eyes and wearily leaned his head back on the couch. "No, we didn't."

Again, she noticed the difference between Rick and Derek. Rick tried to take the opportunity to blast Derek at every turn; Derek barely said a thing. She didn't know which was better: to be closed mouthed, or to be on the defensive.

"I need more," she said. "Rick said you wouldn't let him play until after you got hurt."

Derek looked at her for a second, his brow furrowed in exasperation, and then closed his eyes again. "It wasn't my decision. It was the coaches. They didn't feel Rick was ready, and I had been indestructible." He gave a bitter laugh. "Had been being the operative words."

She looked at him. "Rick said you'd had a say in the decision. That you'd taught him, but then you wouldn't let him play."

He opened his eyes and leaned forward. "Baby, I told them to give him a chance. The coach said he wasn't ready. I argued for him; he had a great arm. Coach said he lacked leadership ability."

Penelope thought about dinner, how Rick could barely make a decision there. What would he have been like on the football field? She shuddered thinking about it.

"Anyway, there is a lot more there between us than just football," Derek said cryptically.

"Oh, I could tell," she snipped. "You nearly had his throat!"

He narrowed his eyes at her, and answered coolly, "That had nothing to do with football."

"Oh, yeah? What did it have to do with, then, Derek?"

"He treated you like shit tonight, Penelope," he spat, like talking about Rick left a bad taste in his mouth. "Fuck, woman, even Carly thought so."

"He explained. I don't agree, but he explained," she answered. "That's good enough."

"Do you really want him?" Derek growled, not giving her a chance to answer. "He can lie about me, treat you like shit, be rude around my cousin, and you can say you want him?"

"It's a misunderstanding what happened between you two on the football field," she said. "He felt under appreciated, unwanted, and unliked-"

"There were lots of reasons the other guys didn't accept him," he muttered, "on and off the field."

"Well, he was at Marshall's wedding," she debated. It was a natural thing to do with Derek; she couldn't help it. "If he didn't feel supported as back up, it would be harder to fit in, harder for them to accept him."

"No, it was hard for them to accept him because he'd fucked my girlfriend when I hurt my knee."

She blinked at him, completely shocked.

Derek shook his head, disgusted with himself. "Look, it was a long time ago; I don't want you to think it is a big thing anymore."

"It _is_ a big thing," she reiterated, "and you need to tell me."

He cringed. "You're gonna make me tell you, so I might as well talk, huh?"

She gave him a smirk, but it wasn't without warmth.

He sighed heavily. "I was dating Traci Shields. She was the head cheerleader, and I was the quarterback. We were a walking cliché."

She smiled. "Yeah."

"Rick always wanted what I had, my position, my friends, but most of all, my girl. So when I was laid up for three weeks at my mom's house, he oiled his way into her friendship, her good graces, and eventually her bed." He shrugged. "The other guys found out and thought it was low, although I didn't really care that much."

He looked into her eyes, and she couldn't look away. "I actually asked the team to forgive him. They had the rest of the season, and I wanted them to go on. They couldn't do that without a QB, and I wanted the team to prosper."

Her heart ached for him; it had to have hurt, to lose his team and his girl. "That must've been a miserable year."

He gave her a half grin. "It sucked, but I was okay. Traci wasn't much of a girlfriend to me anyway. Contrary to popular belief, I hadn't dated a whole lot before her, but I'd never begged a woman to stay with me, and I wasn't going to start doing it then." Derek laughed a little. "She'd wanted me back afterwards, because Rick '_didn't know how to treat a lady_.'"

"I'm sorry," she said. She didn't know what else_ to_ say. What Derek said was awful; it made her fiercely mad at Rick and Traci. "If I ever see him again-"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Hush, momma bear. Don't be like that. I'm fine."

"He's a bastard," she hissed flatly.

"Hey, he was young and dumb, and he did apologize. I thought I could put it aside-practice what I preached." He shrugged with a self-depreciating smirk. "Guess not."

Shaking her head, she added, "I wouldn't have been able to after what he did."

"I sort of understood him. Being a back up is tough. You always want to be the lead. I'd known he'd wanted it. They warn quarterbacks to stay on guard: there is always someone younger and hungrier behind you. I kind of figured he was jealous." He grinned at Penelope. "Early profiler skills, you know."

She smiled back. He really did seem okay with this. He wasn't living in the past, still hurt by what had happened. It was a remarkable difference between the two men. Derek was simply a good man, an adult man. Again, she got that feeling she'd had in the restaurant; she really wanted to have his heart.

Penelope shook her head. She needed to apologize. "I'm so sorry, Derek."

"You got nothing to be sorry about," he said. "I still need to say I'm sorry for ruining the dinner."

"You didn't."

He grinned sheepishly. "I did. I knew once you saw how indecisive and mamby-pamby Rick was-He was back when I knew him and he didn't change- you'd see he was a bad choice for you."

"Took me long enough," she quipped.

"He's good looking. Best looking guy in the group," Derek said, rolling his eyes. "I can see how he'd be persuasive."

"He is not," she said before she thought.

"Not what?"

"The best looking in your group, Derek."

He still looked confused.

She sighed. It was best to be honest and upfront. "That honor belongs to you."

Derek smiled, his warm eyes raking over her. "You think so, eh?"

"You are _magnificent_, after all," she said with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Oh, baby." His eyes grew hot, and he smiled wickedly at her. "That word makes me think of things I shouldn't when it comes to you."

Her pulse rate quickened, and her thighs quivered. "Me, too."

"Angel, don't tease," he muttered. His voice was husky, rough. "Not tonight."

"Who said anything about teasing?"

They just looked at each other for a long moment, holding each other's eyes, the air charged between them. There was a lot being said without a word being spoken.

He swallowed hard, and she watched his Adam's apple move slowly. "God, woman, do I want to touch you."

She shivered in reaction. "This is a bad idea."

"Yeah," he whispered, so much disappointment and longing in just one syllable.

"It would be wrong," she added, trying to convince herself. "You treat women like disposable diapers. One use, and you're done."

He chuckled gently, shook his head, and stood. "I don't have the best past, do I?"

She stood, too. "No, you don't."

"And you want things I don't know I can give," he murmured softly, taking a step closer.

"That's true." Her breath was coming in fast pants.

"But I still really, really want to touch you." He reached both arms out and hauled her against his chest. "And I am going to...right now."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, he lowered his head, and the magic began.

The minute Derek's lips hit hers, that rush, that amazing, tingling, fantastic rush started. It was unlike anything she ever experienced in her life. It was incredible, it was heady, and it was…. Magnificent.

_Holy crap._

She'd thought that Kevin was a decent kisser and Rick was a great kisser, but Derek... he made them look like amateurs. _This_ was what a kiss was supposed to feel like. She couldn't think, she could barely stand; she could just feel. And feel she did, throughout her body, hot swirling passion.

His lips played with hers, coaxing a greedy response. He started with soft, delightful pressure, experimenting with her mouth, that deepened into deeper, more sensual demands. His hands moved up, rubbing her back and hips with gentle motions, up and down, making her sway more into his body.

She moved her hands to his shoulders, pressing her aching breasts into the firmness of his chest. Her whole body had a delicious tension that was only relieved by cleaving onto him.

Derek lifted his head, breaking the kiss for a moment. "Damn, baby. I knew it was-"

He didn't get to continue. She raised on her toes and nearly jumped at him again. He smiled against her lips; he'd known she was eager, but the truth in her actions proved what he'd felt for a long time. This was right.

Dear God, this was right! From the addicting way she tasted, sweet and salty, to how she fit perfectly in the contours of his body, it was right. He could not get enough of her; it was almost frightening, because he knew he would _never_ get enough of her. Not in the twenty-five years he'd been seriously kissing women had he ever had that feeling before.

His tongue dipped into her mouth, stroking against hers in a gentle glide. That electric energy he'd been feeling since minute one of this kiss intensified by a thousand. His hands went back to cupping her bottom, lifting her, molding his hips to hers. He needed her to feel how much he wanted her, but more than that, he simply needed to feel her.

She gasped, and her eyes widened. It was obvious she'd known she affected him, but she obviously hadn't known how much.

"This is it, sweetheart; I'm not playing anymore," he growled huskily, resting his forehead against hers. "We can't turn back after this. Now or never; you decide."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_AN:Thanks for the reviews! Now, on with the show..._

**Warning: Strong Sexual Content**

Penelope took just a moment to catch her breath, before raising her mouth back to his.

It was all the encouragement Derek needed, before he set to do what he wanted to do: claim this woman as his. He slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping in for full possession of her mouth. He moved his hands under her sassy kitty shirt, touching the smooth skin of her bare back.

Pen moaned against his mouth, reaching her hands to his waist, tugging the shirt out of his pants. She moved her hands under his shirt, too, obviously needing to feel him as badly as he needed to feel her. He couldn't help but smile again at his eager angel. He decided he'd help her along.

"Here, baby," he said, giving her one quick nipping kiss, before pulling his shirt over his head.

Penelope's eyes darkened, staring at the sculpted perfection of his chest. "I repeat, stone cold sober this time; magnificent."

"Thanks." He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. "Don't think that I don't appreciate the compliment, but it is only fair if we are in an equal state of undress."

She hesitated for just a second, toying with her shirt. She removed a string that was dangling on the hem, watching his eyes darken with impatient desire. This was so fun, teasing him like she did at work. It was surprising for her, too. She'd never anticipated having sex with him would include their sense of humor.

He pointed a finger at the bottom of her shirt and flicked it in an upward motion. "Come on, woman. Off."

She licked her lips, crossed her arms over her chest, and pulled her shirt off with a flourish. Her glasses came ajar with the movement; she took a moment to refocus, and was nearly bowled over by the look in his eyes. They were so hot, staring so blatantly at her breasts. She could practically feel his eyes on her, like fingers caressing. Her nipples raised in pure response.

He took a step forward, putting his hands on her waist. He slid them slowly upward, over the smooth expanse of her ribcage, before reaching her breasts. He cupped under them, lifting the heavy weights. He never took his eyes off of her; he simply continued to look in a rather worshiping fashion.

"You know," he said, rubbing the pad of his thumbs over her pert nipples. "I pictured these so many times in my dreams, wondering what shade of pink they were, how they would react when I caressed them." He was circling his thumbs, brushing them over the tips, flicking gently with his nails.

She stood absolutely still, afraid that if she moved, he would stop what he was doing.

"I am so sorry." He brought his eyes up to hers; blazing hot in intensity. "I completely underestimated their perfection."

That did it for her. She launched herself back in his arms, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. She needed more, and she was going to get more. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting up on her tiptoes. She wrapped a leg around his, nearly climbing up his body in a desperate need to be closer to him.

Seeming to understand, Derek reached one hand under her bottom, the other under her standing leg, and lifted. She wrapped her legs around him, kissing him with an intensity she didn't know she had. She was starving for him, for the feel of his hot, smooth, bare skin against hers.

He held her for just a moment, letting gravity push her hips into his, easing her softness over the bulge in his pants. He kissed her, his tongue plunging deep into the recesses of her mouth, mimicking another motion she wanted to happen. She opened-her mouth, her thighs, her everything-trying to get closer to him. She could feel her whole body opening in response to him.

He took a step forward, resting her against the arm of the couch, still kissing her. She reached her hands forward, working on his belt and pulling it lose from the loops on his pants. He stood up then, simply waiting for her to do what she was going to do. He certainly wasn't going to stop her.

She undid the button on his pants and tugged down the zipper. Reaching for the waistband of both his pants and boxers, she pushed downward, removing both in one fell swoop.

Then she sat there, simply staring with rather wide eyes. She blinked rather rapidly.

"That surprised look," he asked with the beginnings of a smirk. "I hope that means it was a good surprise?"

She looked up at him, seeing his devilish grin. She didn't answer; it was obvious he knew the answer.

"Well?" he questioned again, pressing her to answer. The smirk, and other parts of his anatomy, were growing even more pronounced. She seriously hadn't thought his cock_ could_ grow any larger, but apparently she was wrong.

She met his eyes and smiled. "I'm not saying a damn thing. You are already vain enough."

He shrugged. "I can take it," he said, reaching his hands under her and tugging off her sassy kitty shorts.

For a minute, some awkwardness hit. She was sitting there on the arm of her couch, naked as the day she was born, with a similarly naked, very aroused Derek standing in front of her. It was rather surreal, really.

That lasted only a second. He pulled her to her feet and into his arms, kissing her again. Thought swept out of her mind, to be replaced with burning hunger and desperate need. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer, arching her hips, her whole body against him.

He kept one hand on her bare bottom, squeezing, caressing, while the other moved down her over her hip to between her legs. His fingers stroked, petted, caressed, teasing her and spreading her wetness. She pulled her mouth away and buried her face in his shoulder. She started to shiver; she wanted so much more.

"Now," she murmured, biting the skin of his shoulder, rocking her hips against his hand.

"Soon," he said, sliding a finger inside her.

"How soon?" she growled in frustration.

He chuckled in response.

She hissed and closed her eyes, her legs trembling with unmet desire. This was unfair, how much she wanted him, and heaven knew, she was completely against things that were unfair. She needed to change this up a bit.

She reached a hand down between them and wrapped her hand nearly around his erection. She slid her hand up and down his rigid length. She could tell she was affecting him; he'd stopped moving his hand, his eyes had closed, and he was standing completely still.

It was her turn to smirk. She squeezed her hand and brushed her thumb over the velvety, damp tip. "I repeat: how soon?"

He reached quickly for his discarded pants. He pulled out a condom and rolled it on, and then pulled her back into his arms. "Quick enough for you?"

She smiled. "It'll do."

He kissed her again, holding her against him, building up that delicious ache again that bubbled with ferocious heat between them. She took a step backwards and ended up falling on the couch. She tugged him down on top of her and wrapped her legs around him.

She could tell he was fighting this, but she was too desperate. She wanted him here, now, and she wasn't going to be stopped. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his mouth down to hers.

He pulled his mouth away. "Baby-"

"Now, Derek," she commanded, raising her hips up against him.

With a groan, he thrust into her, reaching for her hips to angle her upward. She jolted with surprise and then sighed with pleasure as he slid deeper. He began to move, thrusting in a slow, controlled rhythm, moving deeper, stronger, with each heavy slide. She hooked her legs over his, arching her hips to meet the thrusts.

Derek reached out and held the other armrest, holding himself up and changing the angle of his thrusts. She moaned, gasped, and then cried out in pleasure as the thrilling tension started to build in her. He moved faster, harder, and she came in heady spasms around him.

He held still for a moment, letting her come down from her high, before sliding out of her.

She stared at him. He was still erect. "What-"

"Okay," he said, leaning over to scoop her up in his arms. "We started your way, but we're finishing my way." He started walking toward her bedroom.

He lay her on the bed and then followed her down. He was still between her legs, but he moved down, kissing, licking, sucking on her breasts. He paid loving attention to one, and then moved to its perfect mate. She arched and squirmed against him; there was a direct link to her clit every time his mouth tugged on her nipple.

He started kissing downward, dragging his warm mouth slowly over her belly. He started moving even lower, and she started worrying. She'd been busy all day, and she needed a shower...

"Derek," she protested. "You don't have to…ohhhhh!"

After he tasted her, she was limp and sated when he moved up her body and entered her again. It was total surrender; she could barely move. She could only lay there and enjoy. He moved slowly, melding his mouth with hers again for deep, penetrating kisses. That incredible want stirred again. She raised her arms around his back, starting to move under him.

He held her tight and rolled over, then moved his hands to her bottom, helping with this new angle. She leaned over him, kissing him, her knees on both sides of his hips. He helped her sit upright, and groaned as he slid deeper inside of her. She started to move, sliding, stroking, undulating in a need to reach a new goal.

He let her control the movements for a while, before his hands moved to her hips, guiding her faster, harder against him. She was so close, so close to something _colossal_. She leaned forward, moving even faster. He slid a hand between them and stroked her sensitive peak. She cried out in a rippling climax. He gripped her hips hard, continuing to move her until he'd reached his own brilliant release.

Long moments later, she slid slowly to his side, resting her head on his chest. He tossed away the condom, pulled the covers up over them, and they both fell into a deep sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews! I'm a smidge late on answering them; heading up north for a late birthday celebration! Thought I'd put this out first, and answer the reviews later..._

Penelope awoke feeling a little like she needed to sneeze. She was curled on the firm, slightly hairy chest of her best friend. That was the culprit causing her distress; the sparse curls were tickling her cheek and nose. She nuzzled closer anyway, closing her eyes again. In all seriousness, she thought she could spend the rest of her life in bed on that spot and be completely content.

It hit last night, somewhere in all the give and take of their lovemaking. She'd thought she didn't want someone like Derek. Someone powerful, strong, controlling. She'd thought she'd lose herself; be overpowered and lose who she was. She'd found that wasn't the truth.

It was a give and take. He was powerful, but simply because he wanted to protect her. He took control of situations, but he listened to her, too. He was not a spiteful man; he didn't want to bring her down to make himself feel better. He was considerate; he honored her, her friendship, her body, and her spirit-he wouldn't let her think down about herself, just like she wouldn't let him talk smack about himself, either.

It was a wonderful give and take. Making love to him really proved that., When she kissed him, when she gave herself over to him, she gained so much. He had been a thoughtful, caring lover, who'd brought her to peaks she didn't even know she could reach. Looking at his face, at the look he had when he came, she knew she took him right along on that journey, too. There was an innate rightness about it, like destiny being fulfilled.

With that, she knew completely: she had been definitely wrong. He was exactly what she'd always wanted.

She opened her eye and looked at her still sleeping Hot Stuff. She looked back down, sighing. She traced her finger over the indent of his navel, up the sculpted perfection of his tummy. She was beginning to frown, caught by a moment's hesitation.

She was trying to think of what he would say, what he would do, when he woke. Just because she knew they were a damn good pair didn't mean he'd changed what he wanted in a woman. She couldn't help but snicker. They were like Reid's socks, oddly matched, but for some unknown reason, they worked together.

At that moment, Derek stirred, his hand coming down to pat her butt. The man had an obsession with her butt and her boobs; her nipples were a bit sore from whisker rubs. He pushed her closer to his side. She looked up into his heavily lidded eyes.

"Woman, it's settled," he commented, smiling contentedly at her like a cat who ate the canary.

"What's settled?" she asked, her eyebrow quirked.

"You need to sleep here every night. I'd be a very happy, very well rested man."

"That can be arraigned," she answered, smiling coyly. "Just do what you did last night for me, and I can somehow work it into my schedule."

"Somehow?" he croaked with a laugh, then had the audacity to look offended. "Please. It's priority, top of the list, necessity, urgent, ASAP."

"You wanna be my top priority, hmmm?" She was working for a teasing, light tone, and hoped she'd succeeded. Her heart fluttered; little did he know, he was already her top priority.

He rolled her under him, bracing himself on his forearms. He tucked them under her pillow, holding her in an embrace of sorts. "I'd like to be your only priority, for a very long time."

He was looking at her with a heat and passion she hadn't expected to resurface so soon; they'd made love multiple times last night. She'd never had a lover look at her like Derek was; like she was the only woman on earth, the only one that could satisfy him.

Her heart stopped in her chest. She was trying to think of a witty comeback, a tease like they always did, but she was having a hard time doing it. It was hard to think with that much intensity staring at her. She was saved from having to answer, because he leaned down to kiss her.

His mouth was hot, searching, demanding. She reached her arms up to wrap around his shoulders, holding him near. She felt that same sweeping heat, a delicious spiraling warmth that seemed to build every time his lips touched hers. She parted her lips, and his tongue swept inside, stroking against hers. His kiss possessed, claimed her, and she loved every moment of it.

He started kissing his way over to her ear. Once there, he whispered, "What do you want, Penelope? Tell me, and I'll do everything in my power to make it come true."

She shivered in his arms at the intensity of his statement. One look into his hooded eyes, black with desire, and she knew he meant every word he said. So she answered him truthfully.

"I want you."

He started to kiss her again, her neck, her jaw, her collarbones. "Oh, baby. My sweet, beautiful Baby Girl." He kissed her mouth again, drawing her more into the heat of the moment, before moving down to the juncture of her shoulder and neck. He kissed the pulse that fluttered there, the bristles of his morning beard rough against her tender skin.

She moved under him, moaning with want, as he worked her up to a frenzy of need again. Apparently, he wasn't the only insatiable person in her bed. So, she kissed him back, her tongue melding with his, her center liquefying, her body readying itself to receive him yet again. However, above all the heat, all the passion, all the lust, she couldn't tamp out a burning question that pricked the back of her mind….no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

She needed to know, had to know, before this went any further.

"Derek," she gasped, pulling her mouth away from his.

"Mmm, sweetness?" His voice was a low rumble near her ear, causing goose bumps.

"Derek… how about you?" she asked quietly as he nibbled her earlobe, hoping her voice didn't betray her nervousness. "What do you want?"

He raised his head and met her eyes. "That's simple, angel." He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her on top of him. He watched her for a moment, his eyes focused on her breasts, her lips, her eyes. As if he couldn't resist the urge, he cupped her face in his hands, bringing her mouth down to his.

She lost herself in the kiss again, before she forced herself to lean back. She responded with a soft moan, "Tell me."

"I want you, too," he answered plainly. Thickly, huskily, like the words were driven from deep inside, his eyes glittering dark obsidian fire.

"Oh," she breathed, caught in his spell again. "I-"

He pulled her forward, so that her lips were against his, as he whispered, "And I want you to be mine…Only mine."

"Yes," she said, starting to kiss him again. She'd grant him his wishes, too. All he had to do was ask.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I really appreciate the support and caring. Thanks so much for the alerts and the favorties, too. Love, Kricket...Remember back to the beginning of the story...and that I am a HEA person!_

Thus started their wild love affair. For six months, they'd dated and partied, doing everything together. In fact, they were together almost twenty-four-seven. They never grew sick of each other. They'd had grumpy moments, but not really at one another. Instead, they were each other's soothing balm; they made whatever the day could throw at them better for each other. They knew exactly what the other needed. It was perfect, two peas in a pod.

Penelope was so happy, she beamed all the time. People would comment on her even more bubbly personality.

"You look positively radiant, kitten," Rossi declared with a smile.

"Yes," Emily agreed, then added, "Are you pregnant?"

Penelope blushed and shook her head. "No! Not at all. I mean, we're not even married, and it's only been six months…."

"You don't have to be married to get pregnant," Prentiss said with a teasing grin. "Didn't you learn the birds and bees?"

"And six months can be a lifetime," Rossi remarked.

"How so?" Reid questioned.

Rossi made a sour face and clasped Reid's shoulder. "I was married to wife number two for six excruciating, painful, torturous months. Trust me, son; it was a lifetime."

"Besides," Prentiss continued, ignoring Rossi's comments, "I think you're heading down matrimony road soon, anyhow."

Penelope looked up and smiled. Derek was walking into the bullpen. He leaned closer and kissed her cheek. "Hi, Baby Girl."

"Hi, handsome." In spite of her best effort, she could feel heat rising in her cheeks.

He gave her a curious grin. "Why are you all standing around?" He trailed a long finger on her cheek. "And what's this blushing all about?"

"Meeting, everyone," Hotch called from the conference room.

"Oh, nothing," Prentiss said, shooting them a sly glance before heading towards Hotch.

Reid put his hands up and squeaked, "I said nothing!"

Rossi simply put his hands in his pockets and walked by, whistling.

However, the tune he was whistling was _The Wedding March_.

"Subtle, Rossi," Derek remarked under his breath. "Really subtle."

Derek had never been happier in his life. There was no doubt, he was madly in love with Penelope, and he waned to be with her for the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine a moment being apart from her.

But he was never going to marry her.

It was for her own good. He'd seen what happened to too many people who married policemen or agents. He never wanted Penelope to be like his mother, waiting for him while he put his life in danger. Or like his Aunt Amanda, who had a black car pulling up and detectives walking up to her door to tell her Uncle Charlie had been shot. It was moments like that which assured him he was doing the right thing. He loved Penelope too much; he couldn't do it to her.

His heart had a painful twinge in his chest. He knew that someday Penelope might leave him. He knew she wanted marriage, babies, a picket fence. He'd known that all along, but fantastic sex and how great their relationship was didn't change what was fundamentally wrong.

He also knew he was a selfish prick. He never should've slept with her, never should've fallen for her, never should've had any of this happen. He never should've seen what it was like tasting paradise. He was far better off not knowing what it could be like. He was damned weak when it came to her; he couldn't help himself from falling in love. His emotions were like they never were before; a tornado, whirlwind and out of control.

He shook his head. He had his time to be with her, time to enjoy this, before it all came crashing down.

* * *

Two months later, he still didn't have the strength and courage to do the right thing and leave. Derek was driving to Penelope's apartment after work. She'd left about a half hour before he did, and was going to stop to get Chinese takeout for supper. It was raining, so traffic was slower than it normally was.

Grumbling, he pushed a preset channel on his radio, a talk radio station. He listened to sports, and weather, just before the traffic report came on. "Traffic is extra slow on the 619 heading towards Neville Road. There is a six car pile up that is taking a long while to clear."

Derek groaned. He was on the 619. Like clockwork, traffic came to a dead halt. He glanced out the window and swore a turtle passed the SUV. He turned the channel to a classic rock station and patted the drum beat on his steering wheel.

A half hour later, he finally could spot the accident up ahead. "Ugh," he said, looking at the heaps of twisted metal. He wondered who would be driving that fast in this weather. Whoever they were, they were lacking common sen-

A flash of brilliant copper among the wreckage knocked him speechless. Penelope would've been on this road around the same time the accident happened. Immediately, he hit his cell phone, dialing frantically for his Baby Girl.

No answer.

"Come on, sweetheart, pick up!" he growled into the phone after dialing again. Still no answer. He sent a text: _Call me ASAP _  
_  
_"Damn it!" he yelled, looking around traffic. There was no way to get past, no way to see the wreck closer. His heart was pounding hard, and his breath was coming in short pants. He had to fight against the tears that sprung to his eyes. Only one other time in his life had he felt this helpless, and that had involved Penelope, too.

"Fuck!" he swore, as traffic ground to another halt. Sweat was rolling in his eyes; he brushed it away with the back of his hand. It felt like the weight of the world was on his chest. He hadn't expected this; this was not in the grand plan of things.

Closing his eyes, he struggled to take a deep breath, and he did the one thing he rarely ever did.

"Please God," he prayed, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, the briny saltwater burning in his nose. "Don't let it be her. It can be me, but damn it, not her. _Never_ her. Please, I-"

The sound of a horn honking behind him made him open his eyes. There was about fifty feet of room in front of him, and the jackass behind him wanted him to move up.

He gave a snort of bitter laughter. "So much for me praying."

So Derek sat in the car and simply went out of his mind with worry.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone...and we are there! One more chapter, an epilogue, and that is it... Please join me over at Naidoo's profile. I wrote a story with her called "The Vacation." It's about Pen and Derek, touring Europe (I so wanna go!) and falling in love..._

Penelope was in a tub full of bubbles, enjoying every minute of her soak. She'd just shaved her legs, loofahed her feet, and deep conditioned her hair. She'd made it to Wong's and gotten their Chinese food, when she realized she'd left her cell phone at work. She didn't have a landline anymore, so she couldn't tell Derek to avoid the 619 like the plague.

Then she'd gathered all the items to have a wonderful spa experience, relax and beautify herself, preparing to soothe her probably cranky lover.

Gathering her long red hair in a twist, she pinned it back on her head, then reached for her mirror and tweezers. She was looking at a stray eyebrow hair, when she heard a commotion in the other room; her door slamming open, the shelf near the door falling to the ground.

"Penelope!"

The voice sounded kind of like Derek, but she wasn't sure. It was hoarse and throaty, and came out garbled, like the words were being constricted. Not the usual smooth, sexy voice of her lover.

"Penelope!" The tone he was using was frantic now.

"Coming!" She rose out of the bathtub and stepped out, curious as to what was happening. She'd just dried off and picked up her thirsty pink terry bathrobe, when he'd burst through her bathroom door.

He was wet from the rain, almost as wet as she was. He was shivering, like he was cold, and his expression was haunted, pained. He was staring at her, like he was focused on her, but seeing right through her.

"Derek?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, God!" he cried, and enfolded her wet, naked body in his arms. He was holding her so tight, she couldn't breath, but she didn't mind. He was shaking still; she could feel the violent tremors running through him.

"Derek…Hot Stuff," she cooed, wrapping her arms around him, holding his cold body next to her. His fingers resting on her skin were ice cold, like the blood had left them. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"The accident…It was…and I saw…and then there was no Esther here-"

"I parked her in the ramp because it was going to rain."

"Why did you do that?" he snapped, gripping her shoulders fiercely, giving her a little shake. "Why didn't you call me back? I left a hundred messages! Why, damn it!"

"I-I left my phone a-a-at work," she stuttered in shock.

The scowl Derek directed at her was as stormy as the sky outside. "Damn you! Don't you..don't ever..don't-"

There was something definitely wrong, he was losing it. She interrupted him, calmy but sharply, "D, what is going on?"

He took one look at her; a second later, his face crumpled, and he had tears in his eyes. He pulled her into his arms again, holding her close. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I thought I'd lost you, and I'm so sorry."

"Shh," she said, feeling the warm wetness of his tears on her temple. She understood then, exactly what was happening. "I'm here, cupcake. I'm not going anywhere."

"I thought…Oh, God, I'd thought-"

He was struggling for words; it was obviously so painful for him to even be imagining what he was thinking about, let alone talking about it.

Penelope had rarely seen Derek less than suave. Her heart broke for him. She brought her hands to his cheeks, and made him look at her, to reassure him. "It didn't happen. It never happened. I'm here, and I would never leave you."

Derek stiffened at her words. He shook his head. "No…I can't. I have to go."

She looked at him, confused. "What?"

"I need to leave. I can't…do this to you," he whispered dully.

Penelope had a feeling that whatever he was going to say was going to be important, so she listened carefully and tried not to be judgmental. "Do what, Derek? What can't you do to me?"

"P, my life…my job…I'm at risk. I could die at any time. I don't want to put you through that." He took a deep breath of sad finality. "After tonight, I know that even more now. It hurt to even think of you being gone."

"Derek, my love," she murmured. "Do you think it was worth knowing me, loving me, even when you thought I was gone?"

"Of course," he said fiercely. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She smiled, understanding the fear, the raw pain in his voice. "Knowing how much I love you, too, don't you think I could think you're worth that risk, too?"

He swallowed, but didn't respond.

"D, love," she whispered, stepping closer to him, "the fact is, any of us could be taken at any time. My parents were gone in a flash. Your dad, he wasn't even _working_ when he died. Seeing your mom, seeing that grieving, made you who you are, but also made you afraid."

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the soaking wet fabric of his shirt. "Don't be afraid to love me, Derek Morgan. If you push me away, I'll keep running back to you. For however long we have together, you will always be the best thing that's ever happened to me, too."

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered against her hair. "The last thing on earth I would ever want to do is hurt you. If I were hurt, if I died...I couldn't bear doing that to you."

"Derek," she murmured, looking up at him, putting her hands on his cheeks. "It already devestates me when you are hurt. When you were in New York in that ambulance, I could barely breathe, I was so worried. And we were just friends then!"

He gave her an off center smile, like he knew what she did- it was far more than friendship even back then.

She paused for a second to kiss his lips, then continued. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to take a chance on you- and that _you_ need to take a chance on _me_."

"I already love you, with all my heart. And I'll try, sweetheart," he answered, wrapping his arms around her, his heart beating hard in his chest. "I'll take that chance."

"All I am asking for is that you try," she said softly.

"I can't promise I won't flip out if you're in trouble," he added, giving her an extra squeeze. "Hell, I'm still scared shitless."

"That's fine, lover," she added, patting his back. "Just be safe, and I'll try to be safe, too. We can grow old together, and share denture boxes."

He sighed. "You'd better be careful. I don't think my heart can take more days like today!"

She giggled, and he did, too, as they stood there in the bathroom, holding each other, simply listening to the beats of each other's hearts.

"Ah, Hot Stuff? One request?"

He glanced down at her attentively. "Anything you want."

She grinned up at him. "I'm hungry for my Chinese. D'ya think I can get dressed now?"

Smiling, he bent his knees, then scooped her up in his arms. "Anything but that."

And dinner ended up waiting for a long time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16-The epilogue chapter**

_AN: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, coming along on this little bit different take on P and D's relationship. Next story is rather spicy, lots of fun-Penelope finds a certain book at the bookstore...Coming soon, to an inbox near you! :) Kricket_

"Hello, there," he said, coming into the kitchen, leaning over to kiss Penelope.

Immediately, he felt a kick come from her stomach.

"Oh, sorry. Hello to you, too, Junior," he quipped, placing his hand on her extended tummy. He leaned over and gave her belly a soft kiss where his hand was resting.

She smiled, shaking her head. "You'd think with the second one, you'd learn your lesson."

"I can't help it," he said defensively. "I see you standing there, and I am drawn like a magnet."

She grinned crookedly. "That's the iron in the prenatal vitamins I have to take."

He pulled her into his arms. "Bull. It's all you, woman."

Penelope looked down and barely saw her feet. Not that she wanted to; she knew they'd be puffy and bloated, like the rest of her was. Along with that, her roots were showing, she'd gained sixteen pounds, and she was wearing ugly jeans with that fabric maternity band on them.

Baby number two was growing much faster than baby number one had.

"I don't know," she grumbled. "I certainly am not feeling like a femme fatale at the moment."

He began kissing her neck, nibbling softly towards her ear. "Woman, I could eat you alive, every delicious inch of you." His voice was a low growl, causing shivers to run up her spine. "I want to consume you, lick you from head to toe."

She sighed, leaning into his chest, feeling the warmth of his arms encircle her. "You are going to have to wait until I am done cooking supper. I just started spaghetti, and Alyssa is napping, and-"

He turned down the heat on the stove, with all intention of turning up the heat between them. "We can let that simmer...me, on the other hand..."

She chuckled as he scooped her up and started towards the bedroom. He seemed to forget that she weighed the same as a small SUV right now. She wasn't going to fuss about it; that would be silly.

"When did she go down?"he asked in a whisper, glancing at the closed nursery door.

"About fifteen minutes ago," she answered.

He gave her a half smile. "That gives me approximately forty-five minutes. Not anywhere near enough time to make a thorough meal of you, but a starving man can't complain..."

"Starving, ha!" she snorted. She sure as hell did not feel sorry for him; the man got it five times a week at least.

"Well, it's all in the perception, right?" he had the audacity to reply as he laid her on the bed. He leaned over her and raised an eyebrow.

She scowled. "Oh, you-!"

Any reply she would've made was lost as her husband began to kiss her. The magic that had always been there from the first kiss they'd had washed over her and caused her to forget her own name, much less what she was arguing with him about. Soft nips, gentle licks, a deep slide of his tongue against hers, and she was on cloud nine.

Reaching her hands under the back of his shirt, she tugged it up and off of him. He broke the kiss a bit and leaned back a little to toss it on the ground, the muscles in his chest working with the movement.

"Still _magnificent_, honey," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Hell, yes, woman, as are you," he murmured.

"But-"

"Don't give me lip on this," he commanded with a grin. In only seconds, he'd pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra. He was sliding down her pants, when he added, "You are the sexiest momma I have ever seen."

"That makes me a MILF," she said, her eyes twinkling. It was hard not to agree with him when he was watching her naked body with a look that said he wanted to devour her.

"Mmm hmm," he replied, kissing again. Then he looked up at her and said, "But you are so much more."

"What's that?"

"You are my life...my love...my reason for being...my soul." Each set of words was spaced with a kiss on her neck, all the while he caressed her side, her hip. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with emotion, as he said, "I had nothing before you, and I have everything now. You are my everything, Penelope."

"Oh, Derek," she whispered, tears coming down her cheeks. She knew she was being oversensitive, but she was five months pregnant, that happened. "I love you, too."

He gave her another soft, deep kiss that made her world spin...but not enough that she couldn't comment.

"Ah, Derek?"

"Yes, honey?"

"You have thirty-five minutes left."

He grinned at her. "I'll take my chances."


End file.
